


what, like it's hard?

by starkidpatronus



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - America, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Legally Blonde Fusion, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Girl Direction, Girl Power, Harvard University, Humor, Minor Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson, POV Female Character, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Limited, Past Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles, compulsory heterosexuality, this fic is all about loving women in every sense of the word!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 03:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17521217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkidpatronus/pseuds/starkidpatronus
Summary: Louis sighs contentedly. “I’m just so marvelously happy, ya’ know?”“Good for you.”“It really is. It’s--it’s quite grand, actually. I’m going to my dream school with my dream man, to whom I am engaged. I have great friends. Life couldn’t be better.”“Very happy for you.”“Thanks.” Louis beams before her expression falls. “And then you had to come here and ruin everything.”“Yeah, I know,” Harry snaps. “I’m the bane of your existence for some reason.”“You certainly are,” Louis says, considering Harry.~~~In which Harry goes to law school to win back her man, but gets a lot more than she bargained for.





	what, like it's hard?

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, shout-out to the amazing justsomelarryfics on tumblr for being such a wonderful beta for this piece!! And shout-out to the organizer of this whole fest for being so patient and wonderful throughout this whole process. <3
> 
> Just a note, everyone's in American in this fic, which is set in America.
> 
> Potential trigger warnings: sexual harassment, alcohol at a party, discussed murder, discussed abusive relationship, slight emotional infidelity. (If you're fine with the plot of Legally Blonde, you should be fine with this.)
> 
> Hope you have fun reading!! <3

“So, what do you think?” Harry asks, smoothing the blue dress she’s wearing down and appraising herself in the mirror of the department store.

“You look great,” Leigh-Anne remarks from where she sits on the plush armchair outside of Harry’s dressing room. “The fit is perfect. But the question is: What do you think?”

Harry makes a face at herself in the mirror and sighs. “It’s nice,” she allows. “But it just doesn’t feel right, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” Leigh-Anne replies. “This is a big deal; the dress has got to feel right.”

“If I may,” a voice nearby says, and they both turn to face it. A saleswoman stands at an appropriate distance, holding a red dress. “This just came in, and it would look lovely on you. Perfect for a blonde.”

“Oh, does it have a half lip-stitch on China silk?” Harry inquires, walking up to the woman and running her fingers over the dress.

The woman’s expression falters, but she recovers admirably. “Uh-huh!”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Harry says reasonably, smiling pitifully at the woman. “You can’t use a half lip-stitch on China silk.” The woman opens her mouth to speak, but Harry continues, 

“And anyway, this couldn’t have just come in; I saw it in last May’s Vogue.”

Leigh-Anne is poorly hiding her smirk behind her hand.

“It may be perfect for a blonde,” Harry continues, still smiling, “but I’m not that blond.”

“Oh my God!” comes a woman’s frantic voice. Harry turns to see Caroline, the manager of the store, rushing over. “Harry, darling, I am so sorry. Courtney,” she says, turning to the saleswoman, “take your break.” Courtney rolls her eyes and departs. “I’ll deal with her later,” Caroline assures Harry.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Harry brushes Caroline’s concerns away. “I’m used to it.”

“It is not fine!” Caroline insists. “You should not be treated like that, and I am sorry that my own staff thought that would be acceptable.”

“We appreciate it, Caroline,” Leigh-Anne cuts in, smiling. Caroline nods back.

“So, what are you in for?” she asks, clasping her hands together, ready to go to work.

“Well, um,” Harry says, looking down and blushing, a smile playing on her lips. “Tonight is—sort of a big night.”

“Oh?” Caroline raises her eyebrows inquisitively. “How so?”

“Well—”

“Nick is proposing!” Leigh-Anne bursts out, and Harry gives her a look. Leigh-Anne spreads her hands plaintively. “I’m sorry, I just got so excited.”

“Oh my God!” Caroline is already exclaiming, clapping her hands together and practically jumping up and down. “I can’t believe it. Oh, sweetheart, congratulations. I know how long you’ve wanted this.”

“Thank you,” Harry says genuinely, the smile creeping back up onto her face. “I’m pretty excited.” She giggles; she hasn’t been able to stop doing that the past week, and she doesn’t want to.

“As you should be.”

Harry smiles to herself for a moment, then turns back to her reflection and sighs. “I’m just not sure this is the right one, you know?”

“Mm, yes,” Caroline agrees. “It looks great on you, but not quite what you’re going for on proposal night.”

“Exactly.”

“So, what are you looking for, specifically?”

“Something that says ‘bride,’” Harry says thoughtfully, “but also doesn’t come right out and say it.”

“Say no more,” Caroline replies. “I have just the thing. Be right back.”

“So, are you nervous?” Leigh-Anne asks.

Harry considers it for a moment, then answers, “A little. But that’s silly; I’ve been ready for this for a long time.”

“My God, we’ve all been ready for this for a long time,” Leigh-Anne declares exasperatedly. “What has taken him so long? We thought we were all going to die of anticipation.”

“We’re only just now graduating," Harry reminds her.

“People get engaged before graduation!” Leigh-Anne indignantly replies. “Don’t act like that’s never happened!”

Harry just smiles into the mirror. She doesn’t care how long it’s taken Nick; she only cares that they’re here now, and it’s finally happening. All of her dreams are coming true.

“Here!” Caroline proclaims, returning with a pink dress with gold accents.

“Oh wow,” Leigh-Anne breathes. “Put that on now.”

Harry doesn’t need to be told twice; squealing, she accepts the dress and disappears behind the curtain to slip into the dress. The fabric is soft and smooth, wonderful against her skin. She can’t wait to feel it slide against her body as Nick takes it off later tonight.

“Now, you know him better than I do,” Harry can hear Caroline softly saying to Leigh-Anne. “So tell me: Does he deserve her?”

“Oh, totally,” Leigh-Anne answers without hesitation. “They’re soulmates. Completely made for each other.”

Harry smiles to herself as she steps into the dress and pulls it up to where it rests just above her bust. Leigh-Anne knows it, Harry knows it, hell, their entire sorority knows it! And now, Nick is finally ready to accept it.

With only a little bit of fumbling, she manages to zip the dress up herself. Then, she stands there for a moment, looking at herself in the mirror, reality setting in: This is the dress she will be wearing when Nick proposes. She will keep this dress for years, and probably never wear it again because it is just that special. Harry is sentimental about these things, always has been; she has several outfits she’ll never wear again because she wore them on special days and they belong to those days. Nick’s always laughed at her for it, but it’s what makes sense to her, and that’s that.

Nodding resolutely to herself, decision already made, Harry pulls back the curtain and puts herself on display for Leigh-Anne and Caroline. “Well?” she asks, spinning around once and smiling with all her teeth. “What do you think?”

“Oh my God,” Leigh-Anne breathes, staring. “It’s—Oh, Harry, it’s stunning.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks, still smiling as she turns back to look in the mirror again, knowing Leigh-Anne is right.

“Yeah,” Leigh-Anne confirms. “It is.”

“You really do look amazing,” Caroline agrees.

Harry knows how good she looks, of course; she’s not an idiot. The dress is wonderfully flattering, highlighting all her best areas and hiding all flaws. The gold trimming the edge and speckled all over the dress makes it shine, and thus makes Harry herself shine.

“I love it,” she declares, excitement filling her up from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. “I absolutely adore it.”

“Then it’s yours,” Caroline proclaims, and Harry and Leigh-Anne both turn to look at her inquisitively. “Consider it a gift for the second-biggest night of your life.”

“Second-biggest?” Harry raises her eyebrows.

“Second only to your wedding night,” Caroline says with a knowing smile, “of course.”

Harry has to laugh as goosebumps erupt all over her arms, just imagining what her wedding and the subsequent evening will be like. She’s dreamed of it all for so long, and now it’s so close, just within her reach—

“Come on,” Caroline gently cuts into her thoughts. “I’ll ring you up, so to speak.”

Harry giggles. “All right.” Leigh-Anne gives two thumbs-up and a wide grin, and Harry replicates the gesture back to her before going back behind the curtain and changing.

***

“You’re ready for this,” Leigh-Anne tells Harry, going over the last details of her outfit. “You’ve been ready for this for years. You look amazing, he loves you, and you love him.”

“Right.” Harry nods to herself, waiting by the stairs of their sorority house.

“All you have to do now,” Leigh-Anne continues, “is say ‘yes.’”

Harry nods and the doorbell rings. Harry and Leigh-Anne hear squeals coming from above; they look up to see all the members of the sorority standing in the upstairs hallway, looking down at Harry and giggling.

“Go into your rooms!” Leigh-Anne whisper-orders. “You don’t want to scare him, do you?”

The girls nod in response and dutifully go to their rooms, whispering “good luck” to Harry. Her heart swells in response; she loves her girls so much.

“You ready?” Leigh-Anne asks. Harry nods, not trusting her voice. “Good.” Leigh-Anne kisses her on the cheek, gives her a smile, and says, “Good luck.”

With that, Leigh-Anne opens the door. “Hey, Nick.”

“Hey, Leigh-Anne,” Nick greets, but he’s looking at Harry. Softly, he says, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Harry says back, walking over to Nick and grinning.

“I’m gonna’ go catch up on Cosmo,” Leigh-Anne states. “You two have a good night!”

“We will,” Harry replies. Nick shifts a little; he’s so endearing when he’s nervous.

Once Leigh-Anne’s gone upstairs, Nick offers Harry his arm. “Shall we?”

Harry hooks her arm into Nick’s. “We shall.”

***

If Harry hadn’t been sure Nick was proposing before, she sure is now.

He has taken her to the absolute fanciest restaurant in the city. No hats allowed, jackets required, caviar expected. Four courses, none of which Nick skips. When Nick orders champagne, Harry feels like she’s truly died and gone to Heaven. He really wants to make this a night to remember. She falls in love with him all over again.

And the way he keeps looking at her, God. So nervously sneaking glances at her over the course of the whole dinner. When Harry brings it up, Nick can’t even discuss the future without blushing and looking down. It’s the cutest thing Harry’s ever seen.

Finally, after dessert has arrived, Nick looks at her over her tiramisu and says, “Harry.” He smiles at her, and Harry’s heart freezes in her chest.

“Nick.” She smiles back, barely containing her nervous energy.

Nick just looks at her for a moment, smiling softly. Then, he takes a deep breath and begins: “The past few years we’ve spent together have been—magical. You make me feel things I’ve never felt before, and I’m so grateful for that.”

Harry wants to cut in and say that he makes her feel those things too, but she knows this is Nick’s speech, Nick’s moment. Harry needs to let him have this.

“I have fun with you!” Nick continues. “When we’re together, we always have so much fun. And I love that about us. But I need to be realistic now. I’m trying to be a senator by the time I’m thirty, which means I need to get serious.”

“And I fully support you in your dream of becoming a senator,” Harry can’t resist cutting in. “You know that, Nick, right?”

“Yes, I do.” Nick nods, trying to smile, but it ends up looking more like a grimace for some reason. “Which is why I’m sure you’re going to understand that, as I go into this new phase of life, I need someone by my side in a serious capacity.”

Harry nods, putting her hands together and resting them on the table, energy thrumming throughout her whole body. This is it. God, this is really, truly it!

“Which is why I think we should—”

“Yes!”

“—break up.”

“What?”

Harry’s world comes crashing to a sudden, horrible, unforgiving halt.

“I--I think we should break up,” Nick repeats, looking utterly dumbfounded at Harry’s previous exclamation.

“Break up?” Harry screeches. “Are you serious?”

“Uh--yes,” Nick answers. “And you aren’t, which is the whole problem.”

“I can’t believe this,” Harry says, more to herself than to Nick. “You’re actually breaking up with me right now.”

“Harry, it’s not that I don’t love you---”

“Then what is it?” she demands sharply. “What, am I too blond? Are my boobs too big? Is that why I’m not serious enough for you?”

People are looking at them and muttering now, but Harry doesn’t care. Her focus remains on Nick, who is now looking around nervously. “Bunny, come on, don’t make a scene--”

“I’ve given you four years of my life!” Harry declares. “I will make whatever scene I want!”

Which is how they get kicked out of the restaurant.

***

At first, Harry had flat-out refused to get into Nick’s car after that. But her feet did really hurt in her high heels. And the leather in his car is exceptionally comfortable. So, she bites the bullet and gets in, but she isn’t happy about it.

“Can you at least look at me?” Nick prompts. “Please?”

“No,” Harry says cooly. “You don’t deserve that.”

Nick sighs. “I’m sorry. I just think it’s best if we’re realistic about this. I mean, did you really expect me to propose to you tonight?”

“Yes, obviously, I did!” Harry exclaims, not believing how Nick can be so stupid.

“Why?”

Harry scoffs. “Well, let’s see. You’ve been acting secretive for the past two weeks. You told me to look nice for our date tonight, for which you took me to the nicest place in town. You ordered all four courses and champagne. And when dessert came--you know, the time at the meal when most people pop the question--you started telling me how much you love me! So, forgive me if I interpreted those things a certain way!”

Nick lets there be a beat of silence before saying, “I’m sorry. I never meant for you to take things that way. I’ve been acting secretive because I’ve been planning to end things for a while. And I just wanted our last night together to be a nice one, one to really remember.” Harry scoffs; it certainly has been memorable. Sheepishly, Nick adds, “Also, I guess I was sort of stalling with the four courses. Because I didn’t want to end things, Harry.”

“Then don’t end them!”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Bunny, I’m trying to be president one day,” Nick says firmly. “And your image with that just--doesn’t mesh. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care,” Harry says. “Keep your sorrys.”

They don’t say another word for the rest of the ride back to Harry’s sorority house. When they get there, Nick tries to kiss Harry, but she refuses. “You can kiss me,” Harry says squarely, “when you stop being an idiot and say you want to get back together.”

She opens her own car door before Nick can get out and do it for her, then marches into the house. As soon as the door closes behind her, all her sisters turn on the lights and start shouting and throwing streamers. Harry bursts into tears.

“Wait, whoa, what’s wrong?” Leigh-Anne asks, rushing forward as the celebrations abruptly end.

Harry gets out through sobs, “He broke up with me.”

A gasp tears through the sisters, who look at each other cluelessly. “Oh my gosh,” Leigh-Anne gushes. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry.”

Harry just keeps crying, falling into Leigh-Anne’s arms. One by one, the sisters add themselves to the hug. Harry has no idea how long they stay there, Harry crying and her sisters holding her. All she knows is that it’s nice to be held.

***

“He’ll come to his senses any day now,” Leigh-Anne declares as they flip through magazines at the salon, getting their hair dried. “And then he’ll come crawling back to you, just watch.”

“Yeah,” Harry says halfheartedly. “I guess.”

It’s been weeks, though, and she’s basically given up hope on Nick ever coming back to her. It hurts, but she has to face facts: she just isn’t what Nick is looking for. Which does beg the question, what is he looking for?

Leigh-Anne spends a few minutes talking about the problems she’s having with some new hookup and Harry half-listens, still flipping through her Vanity Fair. Then, she sees it.

An announcement of the engagement of Mister Andrew Grimshaw to Miss Layne Walker Vanderbilt. The announcement comes with a brief bio:

Grimshaw and Walker Vanderbilt met at Yale Law, where he is a third year and she is a second year student. The two met in Constitutional Law class and say the rest is history.

“Oh my God,” Harry breathes, gazing at the announcement. Then, she shouts, “That’s it!”

“What’s it?” Leigh-Anne asks, looking over at Harry curiously.

Harry holds up the magazine. “This is Nick’s brother. He got engaged to a Vanderbilt at Yale Law.”

“Right...” Leigh-Anne says slowly. “So what?”

“So,” Harry says, “I need to be what this girl is! Serious. Educated.” A grin spreads over her face as she looks at the announcement again. “And a law student.”

***

Talking her parents into letting her go to Harvard is harder than Harry thought it would be, but she’s always been good at making an argument when she’s passionate about something. And she is definitely passionate about this. When they tell her she’s not serious enough for Harvard, she digs her heels in even harder.

From that point on, it’s a mad dash to the end of the year. Harry’s major is fashion merchandising, which means she has to destroy the LSAT if she wants to get into Harvard. Which she can do, of course. She recruits Leigh-Anne to help her study and Leigh-Anne does not disappoint.

They spend every Friday night making and going over flashcards. Every Saturday night is composed of practice quizzes. Leigh-Anne even quizzes Harry in between the classes they’re still attending now.

Harry’s a little bitter about the whole thing because it’s their senior year; they’re supposed to be out enjoying themselves at frat parties and wet T-shirt contests. Instead, they’re stuck inside with information about statutes of limitations. Harry wants to die, just a little bit.

But she keeps her focus. She remembers why she’s doing this. Once she gets to Harvard, she can prove to Nick how serious she is. He’ll realize what a fool he’s been and come rushing back to her and everything will be right in the world again.

The day Harry takes the LSAT is the most stressful one of her life. Leigh-Anne drives her there because she’s too nervous to drive herself. “You’re gonna do great,” Leigh-Anne assures her. “You’re gonna crush this thing and get into this school and get back with Nick and everything will be perfect.”

Harry’s always admired Leigh-Anne’s confidence, the way she’s able to speak things into existence. Harry’s really hoping that that confidence isn’t misplaced this time.

She thinks she does well on the test. It’s not easy, of course. But she thinks she gets at least a 150. Which won’t be enough to get into Harvard. Which is the thought that throws her into a near-constant panic attack for the last month of school, waiting for her results. She doesn’t even go to that many parties and when she does go, she isn’t fully there. Her mind is always on those results, which could come any day.

In the meantime, she also makes and sends in her application video, which highlights all the strengths that make her a perfect fit for Harvard. She has spent the past two years as Delta Gamma’s president. And she’s able to integrate the language of the law into her daily life, telling catcallers she objects and that they are engaging in sexual harassment. She even tosses in a shot of herself in a bikini at the end because a cherry on the top never hurt anyone.

The day the results do come, Harry gasps when she gets the email. The eyes of everyone in the room immediately shoot to Harry who is staring at her laptop, breath picking up slightly.

Leigh-Anne, who is sitting beside Harry on the couch, leans over and sees the email. She asks gently, “Do you want me to open it?”

Harry quickly shakes her head. She has to be the one to do this.

“Well?” Leigh-Anne pushes. “Come on, then, do it!”

Harry takes a deep breath, squeezes her eyes shut, and clicks the link. She signs into the LSAT site, brain entirely on autopilot. She sees the section that will reveal her score when she clicks on it. Before clicking, she tries to stall, “Why do they--”

“OPEN IT!” the whole room orders.

Harry clicks on the section, nearly dies while the page loads, then gasps again. Then, she grins and shouts, “178!!!”

The room erupts with joy. Leigh-Anne dashes over to the supply closet to grab some streamers, which have remained fully-stocked at all times under Harry’s leadership. As the streamers rain down on her and everyone rushes up to hug her, Harry tears up a bit. She can’t stop thinking about how soon, very soon, she’ll be held by the one she’s meant to be held by.

***

Harry gets in, of course. No way could Harvard turn her away after her stellar application video and a score of 178 on the LSAT. She knows she’s not the student they’re used to accepting, but she doesn’t care about what they think, as long as they let her in.

She also knows she’s not the sort of person many of the people attending Harvard expect to meet. She feels their stares on the first day of classes as she marches down the hall, wearing the sophisticated attire she bought just for the occasion. But she doesn’t care what they think, either. Why would she care about these stuffy, boring people who don’t know how to dress? She only cares about what one person thinks.

As soon as Harry’s had the thought, out of nowhere, Nick appears. Miraculously, he is looking at flyers on the bulletin board in the corridor, just a few feet away from Harry. It’s destiny. Harry’s destiny.

But she can’t come across that eager. Instead of rushing up to him like a child, she squares her shoulders and marches past him like she doesn’t notice he’s there. Of course, it works like a charm; sparks shoot down her arm when Nick grabs her arm and says, “Wait—Harry?”

Harry turns around, blinking like she doesn’t realize who’s grabbed her. Then, she lets her jaw drop theatrically. “Nick? Oh my gosh, hi!”

“Hi,” Nick says, looking as spellbound as he did the first time he saw her. “What—what are you doing here?”

“Oh, I go here,” Harry says matter-of-factly.

“You—what?” Nick blinks like he can’t believe it. Harry gets a certain amount of satisfaction out of that; she’s always loved surprising him.

“I go here,” she repeats, making sure to over-enunciate each word.

“You—got into Harvard Law?” Nick asks flatly.

“What, like it’s hard?” Harry retorts. Nick just stares back at Harry wordlessly. “I honestly forgot you were going here,” she continues. “But I’m so excited to see you! Oh, I’m throwing a party this weekend, you should totally come. I’m thinking of doing either a luau or casino night, ugh, you totally have to help me figure out which to do.” Sensing she may be talking just a little too much, she checks her watch and proclaims, “Oh, I have to get to class! Meet you on the benches after!” 

With that, she turns on her heel, off to her first class at Harvard Law.

***

Harry has all her pens lined up next to her pink notebook. She takes a moment to think about how chic she looks before another girl slides into the seat beside her.

“Hi,” Harry greets with a smile. “I’m Harry.”

The girl looks her up and down with a slight sneer. “Cool.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a boring black laptop. The same boring black laptop it looks like everyone else has.

“Where’d you get your laptop?” Harry tries again. Not because she’s interested, just to start some sort of conversation.

“Uh—I bought it online,” the girl answers, looking at Harry like she’s nuts.

“Ha, bit ironic,” Harry says with a slight chuckle. When the girl looks back at her blankly, Harry explains, “’Cause a laptop is, uh…for going online. Partly. And—you…you bought a laptop on—”

“I get it, thanks,” the girl cuts her off. With that, she opens up her laptop. Harry takes her cue; the conversation is definitely over. Not that it ever really started to begin with.

That train of thought is interrupted by a door banging open and the room falls silent, suddenly devoid of all previous murmurs. Students snap to attention, squaring their shoulders and snapping their heads up to look at the professor.

He is a tall, imposing man wearing an impeccable blue suit and black tie. His hair is black with a slight hint of gray. His eyes are steely as he pierces each student in turn with his gaze.

Harry swallows. Yes, the professor is intimidating. But she can handle it. She opens her notebook, picks up a pen, and sets it on the page. Ready to take down every word.

“Good morning, everyone,” the professor greets, walking over to his desk and setting his briefcase down on it. “I’m Professor Cowell. So, you are the new youth of Harvard. Congratulations.” He smiles at them, taking a certain delight in it as he says, “Your lives just became hell.”

Everyone in the room shifts uncomfortably as Cowell casually leans on the desk. “Before we begin, I want to give you all a bit of advice. You are here to learn how to think like lawyers. And lawyers only ever think about one thing. You.” He points at a blond-haired boy in the third row. “Do you know what that is?”

“Uh…money?” the guy answers, getting a few laughs.

Even Cowell huffs out a small laugh. “Close, Mister…?”

“Horan,” the blonde guy supplies. “Niall Horan.”

“Mister Horan.” Cowell nods. “Close. But not exactly the answer I was looking for. No, what lawyers spend their days thinking about and searching for is The Kill.” He allows a beat of silence, letting it sink in, before continuing, “Sure, some of you may have gone into law because you wanted to make a noble difference in the world, you had a certain moral compass. Lose it. It will do you no good in this business. And yes, this is a business. Not a bleeding-hearts charity. If you want to win cases, you must be logical. You must balance risk and reward with each case you consider taking. You.” Cowell points at a guy with black hair in the fourth row. “Mister…?”

“Malik,” the guy answers.

“Mister Malik,” Cowell repeats. “Would you be willing to defend the following banker accused of fraud? An old lady—a grandmother, no less—sent all her savings to this banker, your potential client. He promised to invest it for her, but instead, he spent it on prostitutes, heroin, and porn. Would you take the case?”

“No,” Malik answers, brow furrowed. “Of course not.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong,” Cowell declares, packing away from Malik. “See, this lady is broke! She’ll get some hack from legal aid! You, on the other hand, are a Harvard-educated elite. You can easily get her on the stand and convince the jury she’s crazy. Your guy walks. Piece of cake. He can, uh—even hook you up with some bonuses, if you so desire.”

A few ripples of laughter go through the room before Cowell seizes on his next victim. “Miss…?”

“Tomlinson,” the girl sitting next to Harry supplies. “Louis Tomlinson.”

“Miss Tomlinson. What if you were offered millions for defending a famous hitman for the mafia elite who missed his intended target, hit and killed a nun, and drove away, running over three adorable puppies in the street? Would you take the case?”

“Oh, you think I wouldn’t defend him just because he’s a typical man?”

Cowell laughs along with Louis before remarking, “Oh, you lesbians all think you’re so tough.”

Louis goes pale as a ghost. Furiously, she starts, “I—I’m not a—!”

“Oh dear, I fear my comment has offended. Don’t you find it hard to argue when you’re too mad to speak? Emotions are a weakness, Miss Tomlinson. You’ll do well to remember that.”

Louis nods silently.

“So, you’re probably all wondering what my point is. Well, I’ll tell you: I run a billion-dollar law firm and I hire four new interns every year. I’m looking for those with the instinct it takes to be successful in this career path. If you are chosen, you have a guaranteed career. The rest of you—watch out. Do I make myself clear?”

Everyone nods.

“Good.” Cowell smiles coldly. “Now, uh, Miss…Styles,” Cowell says, reading from his seating chart, which has made its way back to him. “Please summarize the case of Indiana v Hearnes from your reading for us.”

Harry pales. “The—the case?”

“Yes, from your reading.”

“The…reading,” she repeats, her stomach starting to twist.

“Yes, the reading,” Cowell says nonchalantly. “Pages one through one hundred eighty-four of your assigned text for this class.”

All right, Harry can do this. She’s been in sticky situations before, but she believes in her ability to talk her way out of anything. She does a quick character assessment of Cowell, deciding honesty is her best option here. “Well, I, uh—I didn’t know we had a reading.”

A few people suck in breaths. Louis chokes on a laugh. Cowell, for his part, arches one eyebrow. “You…didn’t do the reading?”

“No, I didn’t know we had it,” Harry reiterates, flushing more and more under the professor’s gaze.

Cowell glares at her for another moment, then laughs. Actually guffaws. Harry lets out a breath of relief; this must happen all the time. She’s just a first year, after all. She even lets out a hesitant laugh herself.

Then, Cowell stops laughing, face drawn. Coldly, he says, “You have guts, Miss Styles.”

A pit opens in Harry’s stomach.

“Miss Tomlinson,” Cowell says, turning to Louis. “Do you think it is acceptable that Miss Styles is unprepared?”

Harry smiles hopefully at Louis. Sure, Louis may have hated Harry on sight, but she wouldn’t betray the trust of sisterhood by throwing Harry under the bus like this. It’s so lucky Cowell chose a girl; a girl would never--

“No,” Louis answers. “It’s not.”

Harry stares at Louis, utterly gobsmacked, wondering what she could have done to so quickly earn the hatred of this girl. Wondering how this girl could possibly look at another girl and break the sanctity of womanhood in this way. Wondering what the hell is wrong with this girl.

 

“Very well,” Cowell replies. “Miss Styles, please collect your things and get out.”

“For real?” Harry questions.

“Yes, ‘for real,’” Cowell confirms with derision. “And don’t return until you’ve done the reading and are ready to learn. Take this seriously.”

That hits Harry so hard, she nearly starts to cry right there. But no, she’s not going to give any of these bastards the satisfaction of seeing that. Without another word, she packs her notebook and pens away, picks up her bag, and storms out of the classroom.  
***

Harry has been crying on a bench for at least an hour. She just can’t stop thinking about how awful it had all been. Cowell was so cold and needlessly cruel. All those people thought they were so much better than Harry. And that Louis Tomlinson had been the worst part of all. Harry still can’t believe what Tomlinson had done. Sure, it’d been clear from the start that she wasn’t particularly fond of Harry, though Harry still can’t figure out why. But to betray a fellow woman like that, to tear her down in front of everyone—It’s inexcusable.

“Hey, um—are you okay?” a voice behind Harry asks.

Harry jumps, turning around to see a tall, built guy standing over her. She thinks she recognizes him from class, but she isn’t sure. “Um—yeah, ‘m fine,” she answers lamely, sniffling a bit.

“Okay then,” the man responds. He gestures to the seat next to Harry on the bench. “Mind if I sit?”

“Oh I’m, uh—sort of waiting for someone, actually,” Harry replies. Then she thinks about how she can use this guy to her advantage. How it would make Nick feel to see her sitting with him. “But he probably won’t be here for a while, so. Sure.”

The guy cracks a grin. “Thanks.” He sits down next to Harry, setting down his messenger bag as he does. “I’m Liam Payne. You’re, uh—Miss Styles, right?”

“Oh God, I thought I recognized you from there.” Harry squeezes her eyes shut. “Please don’t make fun of me.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Liam assures her. She opens her eyes. “I was just going to ask for your first name.”

“Harry,” she answers, voice pathetically small. She feels so much like a child. A stupid child.

“Nice to meet you, Harry,” Liam replies kindly. “You know, um—I actually got kicked out of Cowell’s class once when I was in grad school.”

“Really?” Harry says, not believing her ears.

“Yup,” Liam says. “And now I’m an associate at his firm, so anything’s possible.”

“And his TA.”

“Well, assistant, really.”

“…The assistant to the teacher, yes.”

Liam laughs. “Well, you got me there.”

Harry laughs, too, feeling a bit better. “Well, do you have any advice for an unprepared first year?”

“Uh—do your readings,” Liam suggests with a slight grin.

Harry nods. “Fair enough.”

“And, uh—don’t sit in the first row of Rogers’s class. He spits,” Liam adds. Harry chuckles a bit. “You’ll be fine. I assure you, getting thrown out of one class is not the end of your law career.”

“Oh, that’s—whatever, I don’t really care about my ‘law career,’” Harry says with a wave of her hand. “I just can’t keep looking like an idiot. And I can’t get kicked out of class. I need to be here.”

“If you don’t care about your law career, why do you need to be here?” Liam inquires.

“I need—Oh, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” he challenges.

“Harry sighs. “I need to—Nick!”

Nick waves at Harry as he approaches her on the bench. Liam asks, “Oh, is that who you’ve been waiting for?”

“Yes,” Harry answers.

“Then I should probably—”

“No, stay!”

“Um—all right.”

“Hey, Harry,” Nick greets once he reaches her and Liam. “Who’s your friend?”

“Oh, this is Liam,” Harry introduces. “He’s fantastic. Liam, this is Nick.” She notices the flash of jealousy in Nick’s eyes, and that’s enough for her. “He’s also fantastic.”

Nick looks down at the ground and smiles, but it’s a little off. He says, “Er—thanks.”

“’Course.” Harry smiles at him while he continues adorably looking down at the ground.

A moment passes, then Liam clears his throat and says, “Well, uh—I’m gonna’ get out of here. I’ve got, uh—stuff to do. See you later, Harry.”

“Bye,” Harry replies with a smile. Liam nods at Nick, then picks up his messenger bag and departs.

Harry turns her smile back to Nick, who shuffles his feet awkwardly. God, he’s so cute. He starts, “Listen, uh—Harry, you’re a great girl—”

“Thank you!” Harry responds, standing up and approaching Nick. “Gosh, Nicky, I’ve missed you so much. You look great, by the way.”

“Thank you, uh, you do too—”

“And now we’re here together!” Harry exclaims, straightening Nick’s collar for him while Nick swallows. “Isn’t it so exciting?”

“Yeah, totally, uh—”

“There you are, Nick,” Louis says, suddenly appearing at Nick’s side and kissing him on the cheek. “How was class?”

“Uh—good,” Nick answers. “Hey, Louis, this is—”

“Harry,” Louis finishes the sentence, smiling at Harry coldly. “We’ve met.”

“Oh, sick,” Nick says, nodding. “How?”

“Uh—we had class together,” Harry informs Nick, still staring at Louis.

“Yeah, Harry got thrown out because she didn’t do the reading,” Louis says on a laugh. “It was super funny, wasn’t it, Harry?”

“Yeah,” Harry replies, playing along with Louis’s sadistic little game and smiling. “Yeah, so funny. Almost as funny as when Professor Cowell called you a lesbian!”

Louis breathes in sharply, eyes shooting daggers at Harry. Nick turns to Louis, asking, “Wait, he what?”

“Oh, he was just trying to prove a point,” Louis tells Nick. “I’m very obviously not a lesbian, dear. Want proof?”

“Uh—I—” Nick’s eyes dart over to Harry, then back to Louis. “Of course.”

Louis puts her hands on either side of Nick’s face and plants one on him. At first, Harry is too shocked to look away. Then, she can only stare, the reality of the situation setting in. She sees the ring on Louis’s finger. Oh. Oh, God.

The kiss finally ends. Louis smirks at Harry. Harry smiles tersely back. Louis checks her watch and says, “Come on, baby, let’s get some lunch.”

“Right.” Nick nods; he’s talking to Louis, but he’s looking at Harry. “Uh—see ya’ around, Harry.”

“Definitely,” Harry says, grinning as her chest aches. “Great seeing you, Lou.”

Louis just nods in response before taking Nick’s hand and dragging Nick away. Harry watches them go, her heart breaking as all the breath leaves her.

She does what she’s always done when this depressed; she searches for the nearest nail salon, marches to her car, gets in, and goes.

***

 

Upon entering, Harry skips the front desk, charging straight to an open nails station. “Please, I know I don’t have an appointment,” she says, already placing her nails on the table. “But it’s an emergency.”

The nail beautician puts down the magazine she was flipping through, picking up a nail file and ordering, “Spill.” Thank God some people still understand the sanctity of the profession.

Harry takes a deep breath before launching into it, “So, I thought my boyfriend was going to propose to me at the end of our school year. Instead, he dumped me because he felt like he had to be more ‘serious.’ So, I came here to Harvard Law, ‘cause he’s going here, and I wanted to prove to him that I am serious, so he would take me back.” The beautician nods along, listening intently while filing. “And everything was going perfectly according to plan, until fifteen minutes ago when I found out he’s engaged to this really mean girl who got me kicked out of class. Oh yeah, I got kicked out of my first class. So—everything’s awful.” She’d started crying at some point during her rant and now sniffles.

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me that life’s a bitch and then you die,” the beautician declares. “I’m a divorced middle-aged high school dropout. All I’ve got now is stretchmarks and depression.”

“That’s awful,” Harry blubbers.

“Yeah, well, happens every day,” the beautician comments remorsefully. “I just mean to say-, you’re not alone in your life sucking.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, offering a small smile. “I’m Harry.”

“Paulie,” the woman says. “Paulette, but everyone calls me Paulie.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Paulie nods in response before saying, “So, what’s this girl got that you don’t? Three tits?”

For the first time, Harry lets herself notice that Louis is rather attractive. Long, shiny brown hair, stunning blue eyes, and an admittedly flawless figure. That just pisses Harry off more, so she says, “She’s not…unattractive. Though she could use some makeup.”

“Hm.” Paulie does the last finishing touches on Harry’s nails. “Well, if you can’t get a man, the rest of us are truly hopeless.” Harry smiles gratefully before Paulie declares, “So, what are you waiting for? Steal the bastard back!”

***

Paulie is right. Harry came to Harvard with a mission: to win back Nick. The existence of Louis is just another minor setback.

At least, this is what Harry tells herself as she brings a basket of muffins to the library. She saw on Facebook that Louis and Nick are in a group called “Study Buddies” with a few other people. Louis was checking the group in another class they share and Harry may have looked over her shoulder to see when they were meeting next—4 o’clock that day, second floor of the library. (Hey, this is war. All is fair.)

Sure enough, Nick and Louis are sitting at a table with two guys Harry thinks she recognizes as Niall Horan and…something Malik. She never did get that first name.

She takes a deep breath, then marches over to the table with a smile plastered on her face. “Hi, guys,” she greets.

Everyone at the table freezes. Everyone, that is, except Louis, who slowly turns to glare at Harry. Bluntly, Louis asks, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Well, I thought I’d join your study group,” Harry answers, sounding more confident than she feels. “I baked muffins and everything.”

“Ohhh, you baked?” Nick inquires, reaching for the basket.

“That’s right,” Harry says, pulling out a muffin and holding it out to Nick. “I did.”

Nick reaches out to take the muffin before Louis swats his hand away. Louis says to Harry, “Sorry, we’re already full.”

“Ah, come on, Lou,” Niall implores her. “We can pull up a chair. The more, the merrier, right?”

Harry smiles at him. “Exactly my perspective.”

“Well, it’s not mine,” Louis counters. “Sorry, but we’re just not interested. Right, Nick?”

Nick looks between Harry and Louis before looking down and saying, “Uh—yeah.”

“See?” Louis says, turning back to Harry. “Not. Interested. You can go now.”

Harry smiles at Louis with ice in her eyes. “Fine. I’ll just take these muffins elsewhere. Goodbye, everyone.”

She turns on her heel and starts to walk away. Malik calls out, “Hey, maybe there’s a pep rally you can help organize!” A few chuckles follow the comment.

Harry keeps walking.

***

She calls Leigh-Anne as soon as she gets back to her dorm room. When Leigh-Anne picks up, she is happy and laughing as she says, “Hey, girl! How are you?”

“Um--fine,” Harry lies, hearing a lot of activity on the other end of the line. “Where are you right now?”

“I’m trying on my wedding dress!” Leigh-Anne bursts out, excitement oozing out of her voice.

Harry’s heart breaks just a little more. “Oh my gosh, he finally proposed?”

“Yes!” Leigh-Anne exclaims. “Took him long enough, right?”

“Sure did!”

“Well, at least he’s not taking as long as Nick,” she remarks. “How are things going with that anyway?”

“Great,” Harry answers, choked-up. “Yeah, everything’s going according to plan.”

“Thank God,” Leigh-Anne gushes. “I miss you like crazy. Hurry up and get that rock!”

“Will do.”

“Good,” she says. Harry hears someone shouting on the other end. “Ugh, I should get going. Keep me updated, all right?”

“Definitely.”

“Cool. Love you, bye!”

“Love you too,” Harry says, but gets cut off by Leigh-Anne hanging up before she can finish the sentence.

Harry is now even more deflated than before. She sits with her sadness for a moment. Then, just outside her door, she hears people discussing a party. Jumping up, she tears open her door and asks, “Party? Did I hear you say there’s a party?”

She sees thirty seconds too late that Louis had been discussing the party with a girl Harry doesn’t know. But she stands her ground, still expecting an answer.

“Uh—no,” Louis replies with a false smile. “You must have misheard.”

Harry would let that be the end of it, because of course Louis isn’t falling over herself to invite Harry. But it’s a party; it’s Harry’s domain! And Nick will most likely be there! She has to get in.

Thus, she juts out her chin and proclaims, “I’m really good at parties, you know. I always bring the best food and the most fun games. If you want this to be a good time, you should invite me.”

“It’s not even my party.”

“But you still want to have a good time, right?”

Louis is about to respond, when the girl pipes up, “Come on, Lou. Just invite her, it’s fine.”

“But—”

“No one will mind,” the girl assures her. “I promise.”

Louis huffs, rolling her eyes. “Fine. It’s Saturday night at at ten. I’ll message you the address. And, uh.” Louis pauses, glancing at her friend before turning back to Harry. “It’s a costume party. So look sharp.”

Harry smiles; this may finally be the start of Louis burying the hatchet. “Will do. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Louis replies, smiling back. A certain warmth fills Harry’s chest at that.

Louis says to her friend, “Come on, let’s go.”

Her friend, looking confused, tries to protest, “Wait, but—”

“Now,” Louis insists, taking her friend by the arm and tugging her away. Harry waves at their backs.

She returns to her room, letting the door close behind her and smiling to herself. For the first time since coming to Harvard, she feels like she’s on the right track.  
***

Harry loves costume stores for the way they allow her to choose who she wants to be from hundreds of options. Who she wants to disappear into.

Of course, all the women’s options are sexy. Not that Harry minds; she’s always been able to rock that look. But naturally, it's a bit…well, demeaning.

Enough of that sort of thinking, though. Right now, she needs to figure out which of these costumes will be her weapon. She could go for the classic sexy devil. But she already did that for Halloween sophomore year; Nick will remember that in an instant. Or, at least, he’ll remember how he got her out of the costume. She could also be a sexy goddess, but “goddess” isn’t really the vibe she’s going for tonight.

Then, her eyes fall on it: The One. Smirking to herself, she mutters, “Perfect,” before plucking it off the shelf.

It’s going to be a great night.  
***

It takes two seconds upon entering the house for Harry to realize this is one of the worst nights of her life. 

No one else is wearing a costume. Harry is wearing a Playboy bunny costume, complete with ears, a tail, and high heels. For a second, she thinks she’s come to the wrong house. Then she quickly realizes what must have happened here.

Still, she plasters on a smile and greets everyone she passes, doing her best to make this all seem deliberate and ignore the gawking and laughter that follows her. Finally, she finds the bitch.

Louis is sitting with her friend, chatting in the living room. Harry marches over to her and greets, sugar-sweet, “Hi, Louis. Are you enjoying yourself?”

Louis looks up at her and laughs into her drink. “Oh my God, you really went all out.”

“I’d like a word with you.”

Louis laughs with her friend before turning back to Harry. “Yeah, all right.” She follows Harry into a corner by the fireplace.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Harry demands. “Girls are supposed to look after each other! We don’t look good by tearing each other down.”

“I’m not ‘tearing you down,’” Louis refutes.

“Then why did you get me thrown out of class?” Harry challenges. “And why did you tell me this was a costume party? Is this all just part of your scheme to keep Nick all for yourself, after stealing him from me?”

Louis throws her head back and laughs, making Harry’s blood boil. “Okay, sweetheart. Let’s get a few things straight, shall we?” She brushes hair out of her face before listing, “One, I didn’t get you kicked out of class. I was asked a question and I gave an honest answer. Really, you got yourself kicked out by being unprepared. Two, I didn’t ‘steal’ Nick from you. He dumped you, then chose me. He just doesn’t want you.” She pauses, narrowing her eyes at Harry and letting that one sting. “Finally, about your costume?” Louis chuckles. ‘Well, you did say you were fun at parties. Let’s just say I wanted that to be a guarantee.”

Harry looks at Louis for a moment as she takes a sip of her drink. Harry lets the rage fill her up inside, swallowing past the lump in her throat. She doesn’t take time to think through her next action, tipping the glass Louis’s holding onto Louis’s black dress. Louis gasps before growling, “Oh, you absolute—”

“What’s wrong, Lou?” Harry asks, voice syrupy-sweet. “I’m just livening up the party!”

Louis practically pants as she seethes at Harry. Voice deathly low, she suggests, “Why don’t you just get out of here? This isn’t exactly your scene. I don’t see any hula skirts anywhere.”

Harry nods slowly. “Yeah, I shouldn’t be wasting time like this. Not on this party, anyways. See ya’ around, Lou.” With a wink, Harry walks away.

She really is going to leave soon. But first, she still has one person to see.

She finds him in the kitchen, leaning against the island. He’s sipping from a beer bottle, watching Malik and Niall argue about some legal thing. Harry watches as Nick sets down the bottle on the counter, then goes in. She “accidentally” stumbles and falls, placing her hands on Nick’s chest to catch her fall as she cries, “Oh God!”

“Hey, whoa, are you—Harry?” Nick says once he gets a look at her. “Hey! What are you doing here?”

“Oh hey, Nick,” Harry replies, wiping at her eyes as if she’s been crying. “Don’t mind me; I was just leaving.”

“Wait, hold on,” Nick says, grabbing her forearm and pulling her back to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just—” Harry cuts herself off and sighs. “Louis’s just been really mean to me and I don’t know why she hates me so much. So I’m just a little upset, you know?”

“God, Harry, I’m so sorry,” Nick replies. “Lemme talk to her.”

“No!” Harry rushes to grab onto the front of Nick’s shirt and keep him close. “No, I don’t want to cause any more drama. Could you just, um, hold me? Please?”

“Oh.” Nick looks at Harry with such love and kindness, Harry’s heart swells. “Of course, bunny.”

Harry sniffles as she places her head on his chest. It feels just the same as it did when they were together. Nick’s arms are just as strong and sturdy when they wrap around Harry. Nick smells just the same—his cologne and a hint of sweat. If Harry closes her eyes, everything can be exactly the same as when they were one. Before any of this insanity happened.

“You look great,” Nick says softly, snapping Harry back to reality. “Just, uh, by the way.”

Harry remembers her goal. She can’t just stand here blubbering on Nick’s chest. She needs to utilize each and every moment with Nick. Thus, she clears her throat, lifts her head, bats her eyelashes, subtly lifts up her chest, and asks, ‘Really? You think so?”

“Yeah,” Nick breathes back, looking mystified. “I do.”

Harry giggles. “Thanks.”

Nick wordlessly brings a hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind Harry’s ear. Harry’s breath hitches in her throat as their eyes meet. She’s this close to leaning up and bridging the distance between their mouths.

But no, Nick cracks a joke, saying, “You always were my bunny!”

Harry bites her tongue and laughs, stepping away. Patience, she tells herself. “Gosh, I feel like I haven’t seen you at all since we got here!” she exclaims.

“Well, that’s ‘cause I’ve been so busy looking at hypos and case studies,” Nick says with a certain sense of smugness.

“Ugh, tell me about it,” Harry says, placing her hands around Nick’s neck as Nick continues to lean against the island. “I don’t know how we’re gonna’ juggle all this and Cowell’s internship next year.”

Nick laughs, saying, “Yeah, right.”

Harry blinks at that. “What do you mean?”

“I—I mean—Well, you know,” Nick says, still laughing.

“No,” Harry reiterates, “I don’t.”

“Well—I—” Nick looks at Harry like she’s crazy, still smiling. “Sweetie, there’s no way you’re gonna get that internship.”

Harry blinks again. “Why not?”

“Bunny…you’re not smart enough,” Nick declares gently but plainly.

“Excuse me?” Harry asks, staring at Nick as if seeing him for the first time.

Too late, Nick realizes his mistake and tries to backtrack, “I—I only mean that—” Nick sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I mean that—you don’t really belong here. It’s great you got here, but—getting the Cowell internship? Harry, you didn’t even know about it until this week!”

“So what?”

“So, everyone else here has known about it since high school and has been working towards it ever since. There’s no way you can beat everyone else.”

“Just because I only learned about it recently, doesn’t mean I want it any less.”

Nick scoffs. “Yeah, right. How long do you think you’re going to be here?”

“Until graduation.”

“But—”

“But what, Nick?” Harry challenges. “I got in, didn’t I? We both got in.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But what?” she pushes. “We took the same LSAT. We’re taking the same classes.”

“I know, I know,” Nick says, reaching out a placating hand. But Harry backs away. “I just mean—come on, Harry. You could be doing something more valuable with your time. Something you really want to be doing.”

“I do want to be doing this,” Harry asserts. “I can do this.” She looks at Nick then, really looks at him. And she realizes something. “I’m never gonna’ be good enough for you, am I?”

Nick sighs as he looks at Harry. He spreads his hands, as if not knowing what else to do. Harry nods to herself and turns on her stiletto heel. Before leaving, though, she turns around to say, “I know we broke up, but it’s still really messed up that you got engaged to another woman a few months later when I gave you four years of my life.”

“We met as kids, bunny, I—”

“It was still messed up,” Harry insists. “And don’t call me bunny.”

Harry gives Nick one last resentful look, then leaves.

***

Harry drives to Walmart and buys a laptop that same night. Not boring black like everyone else, though. Bright green. Exciting.

It’s time to get serious.

***

Harry is pathetic. She said she’d get serious, but the same night she buys her laptop, she sits alone in her room, crying. It’s hard to let go of Nick. Letting go of dreams is always hard.

A knock on her door is an unwelcome shock; she hasn’t made any friends here, so it must be her RA telling her to keep it down with her sobbing. Perfect. Dragging her feet, Harry goes to the door and opens it.

Before her is Louis Tomlinson. A very drunk Louis Tomlinson.

“Hi, Harry,” she slurs, weirdly chipper. “Can I come in?”

“Do you need help finding your room?” Harry asks bluntly.

“Nope!” Louis refuses. “Come on, let me in.”

Figuring she has nothing to lose, Harry steps back from the door to let Louis enter. She stumbles in, catching herself on Harry’s desk before she can fall.

“Do you, uh, need some water?” Harry offers. Louis waves the offer away.

“Nah, ‘m fine,” she declares, plopping herself down on Harry’s bed. Harry stands awkwardly by her desk, seeing that sitting on her desk chair would bring her too close to Louis. The room is far too small.

“So, ah,” Harry says, “what’s up?” The unspoken why are you here hangs in the air.

“Nothing, just--” Louis sighs contentedly. “I’m just so marvelously happy, ya’ know?”

“Good for you.”

“It really is. It’s--it’s quite grand, actually. I’m going to my dream school with my dream man, to whom I am engaged. I have great friends. Life couldn’t be better.”

“Very happy for you.”

“Thanks.” Louis beams before her expression falls. “And then you had to come here and ruin everything.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry snaps. “I’m the bane of your existence for some reason.”

“You certainly are,” Louis says, considering Harry.

They stay like that for a long time, Louis studying Harry and Harry struggling not to squirm. Finally, Harry tires of this and decides to get something useful out of this time. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot!” Louis orders, doing a clumsy impression of shooting a basketball.

“Why don’t you like me?” Harry inquires. “Why do you hate me, actually?”

Louis blinks, suddenly looking hurt. Voice small, she says, “I don’t—hate you.”

“You act like you do,” Harry states. “Is it because I came here to steal Nick from you?”

“Well, obviously, I don’t love that,” Louis says, rolling her eyes. “But it’s not even why you think, really. I’m honestly not that intimidated by you. Like, I am a little, because Jesus, look at you.” Harry shifts, a little uncomfortable but not displeased as she looks down and smiles. “But no, it’s not even that I think you’re going to succeed. I know Nick is mine.”

“Good, because I’m no longer interested in him,” Harry says plainly. It’s the first time she’s actually said it out loud. She’s surprised to find it’s a relief to say it. Just because it feels so nice, she adds, “At all. Really.”

“Oh, please,” Louis says, rolling her eyes. “You just said you came here for him!”

“Motivations can change with circumstances!”

“What’s changed, then?”

“Me,” Harry asserts. “Or at least--I’m going to.”

Louis stares Harry down for a moment, then shakes her head. “I wish I could believe you. But you’ve been so--” Sitting up much straighter, Louis continues, “I just—wish you would take this all more seriously.”

Harry blinks. “What--what do you mean by that?”

“You view law school as a stepping stone to getting married.”

“Well, what’s wrong with getting married?”

“Nothing!” Louis exclaims. She holds up her left hand, waggling her fingers. “Obviously, I have no problem with it. But I do think there’s a problem with having your whole life revolve around it. I mean--Don’t you want to do more with your life than get married?”

Harry thinks about it for a moment. Really thinks about it. Because honestly, she never has. She’s always just assumed she’d be Nick’s first lady and have some special initiative like every other first lady. But now that she’s not going to be Nick’s first lady, she needs to figure out something else to be. Something else to do.

She realizes Louis is still waiting for an answer and says, “Yes.”

“Then do it,” Louis urges. “You’re at Harvard Law, yet you treat it like a joke. It’s a bit insulting, considering that I have worked my entire life to get here.”

“How long have you worked to be with Nick?” Harry asks before she can stop herself.

Louis's mouth twitches and she stands up stiffly. “I think I’m going to head out. Goodnight, Harry.”

“I didn’t mean--”

“I said ‘goodnight.’”

Harry sighs. “Goodnight, Louis.”

With that, Louis makes her way to the door, stumbling a bit, and leaves.

Harry takes a moment for herself, then takes her textbook for Cowell’s class out from under her bed. She removes the plastic from it and cracks its spine for the first time.

***

Over the course of the next few weeks, Harry pushes herself more than she ever has. More than she did when organizing her sorority’s rush weekend. More than she did when she ran (successfully) for Homecoming Queen. More than she did to get into Harvard.

Checking her syllabus, she writes her deadlines down in her planner. She creates study plans for what to complete each night to finish her assignments on time. She follows those plans religiously.

She studies at the library. She checks books out of the library to write her essays. Even though Niall may be Louis’s friend, he’s still friendly, so Harry asks him to look it over for her. She agrees to look his over in return. Which is how she becomes sort of friends with Niall. Which is really nice.

She makes flash cards for every case she comes across in her readings, including footnotes. And she does all of her readings. She has Paulie quiz her using the flashcards.

“Swinney v. Neubert.”

“Swinney was a private sperm donor who was granted visitation rights to a child made with his sperm,” Harry recites, sitting in a chair across from Paulie at the nail salon. “As long as he agreed with the hours set forth by the parents, of course. Oh, and he was a one-time donor. God, that’s a dumb case.”

“Tell me about it,” Paulie agrees. “Typical male entitlement.”

“Right?”

Paulie tuts. A timer on her phone goes off. “Oh! Break time!”

Harry grins, placing her hands before Paulie. Paulie holds up a pink bottle of nail polish and a blue bottle of nail polish. “Pink,” Harry says. Paulie nods and unscrews the top of the bottle.

“So, how are things going with Nick?” Paulie inquires, starting to paint Harry’s nails.

“Paulie, we’ve been over this,” Harry answers. “Things are over with Nick. For good.”

“Oh, I’ve said that before,” Paulie says. “With my ex, you know. But we always come running back to each other.”

“Well, you deserve better than that!” Harry says. Paulie snorts. “I’m serious! You deserve better than a relationship you feel like you constantly have to run from.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Paulie allows, “but it doesn’t matter. He has something I can never get back.”

“Your heart,” Harry says sympathetically.

“No!” Paulie rejects the thought with disgust. “God, no. He has my dog!”

“Oh my God,” Harry says, shocked. She picks up the picture of a bulldog on Paulie’s workstation. “Is...is this him?”

“Yeah,” Paulie answers, looking at the photo mournfully. “That’s my Rufus.”

“He looks like such a good boy.”

“He is.”

“Why does your deadbeat ex have him?”

“Well, we lived together for years,” Paul explains, “and he refuses to give Rufus back to me. I could just go over there and take him back, but...I just don’t want to cause any trouble, you know?”

“I understand,” Harry says. “But that’s still terrible.”

Paulie sighs. “Yeah. I know. Nothing I can do about it, though.”

And that’s when Harry gets an idea. “Maybe there is.”

***

Perhaps Harry had still been slightly considering getting back together with Nick. Just a little. That completely goes away one day in Cowell’s class as they all debate the decision made in The State v. Latimer.

As soon as Nick says, “According to Swinney v. Neubert,” Harry is already rolling her eyes. Nick continues, “Swinney, who was also a private sperm donor, who allowed visitation rights as long as he came to terms with the hours set forth by the parents. So, if we’re sticking to past precedent, Mister Latimer wasn’t stalking. He was clearly within his rights to ask for visitation.”

Harry knows a rebuttal to that point already, but she holds off, waits to hear what Cowell has to say.

Cowell replies, “But Swinney was a one-time sperm donor, and in our case, the defendant was a habitual sperm donor. And he also happens to be harassing the parents in his quest for this supposed rightful visitation.”

“True, but without this man’s sperm,” Nick argues, “the child in question wouldn’t even exist.”

Cowell smiles--no teeth, but still, a rarity. “Now you’re thinking like a lawyer.”

 

Nick grins at Cowell, then at Louis excitedly. Louis nods, smiling back at him.

It makes Harry sick, so maybe that’s why she raises her hand. Cowell raises his eyebrows and calls on her, “Miss Styles?”

“Although Mister Grimshaw brings up a fair point,” Harry says, not without a bit of irony, “I have to wonder if the defendant has kept a thorough record of each sperm emission made throughout his life.”

Snickers erupt throughout the class. Louis in particular gives a notable one. Harry ignores all of this, keeping her focus trained on Cowell.

“Why do you ask?” Cowell inquires.

“Well, unless he attempted to contact every person with whom he’s had a one-night-stand to determine if a child resulted in those unions, then he has no parental claim over this child at all,” Harry asserts. “So why this sperm? Why now?”

The class falls silent, looking between Harry and Cowell. Cowell nods slowly, smiling slightly. Emboldened, Harry continues, “For that matter, all masturbatory emissions where his sperm was clearly not seeking an egg could easily be termed reckless abandonment.”

Cowell continues to nod as his smile grows. He allows a moment for everything to hang in suspension, then says to Harry, “I believe you’ve just won your case.”

Harry smiles to herself. She sneaks a look at Louis, who is gaping at Harry. Harry resists the urge to stick out her tongue, choosing to stick out her chin instead. Meanwhile, Nick is scowling. Liam, who is standing in the corner of the room, catches Harry’s eye and gives her a thumbs-up. Harry grins back.

***

An hour later, while everyone is filing out of class, Cowell stops Harry on her way. “Nice job today, Miss Styles.”

“Thank you, Professor Cowell,” Harry replies pleasantly.

“You’re applying to my internship, right?” he checks.

“I, uh...I’m not sure if--”

“You should,” Cowell cuts Harry off. “You have a resume, right?”

“Yes, I do!” Harry replies, pulling off her backpack, unzipping it, and yanking her resume out to present it to Cowell.

Cowell stares at it for a moment, then accepts it with confusion. “It’s...pink.”

“It’s also scented!” Harry eagerly adds. “I think it adds a little something, don’t you?”

Cowell just stares wordlessly at Harry. So, she checks her watch, pretends she has a class to get to, and says, “Well, I should get going. Thanks for a great class today!”

As she leaves, she can feel Cowell’s eyes on her.

***

“Hey, Harry! Wait up!”

Harry stops in the middle of the quad and turns around, smiling when she sees Liam jogging after her.

“Hey, stranger,” she greets. “How have you been?”

“Fine, thanks,” Liam answers, stopping once he’s reached Harry. “Busy getting some info on a potential case for Cowell, but all in a day’s work. Hey, you were really solid today in class.”

“Thanks,” Harry responds, believing it more and more with each person who says it. “Cowell asked for my resume for the internship afterward, so fingers crossed!”

“I saw that,” says Liam. “I’ve never seen him ask for a resume; I was shocked.”

A shot of electricity goes through Harry at that. “So I really was good, huh?”

Liam nods. “You really were.” Then, he laughs. “Though, uh, Cowell did get a bit of a kick out of the creativity of your resume.”

“It makes it stand out!”

“Oh, it certainly does,” Liam agrees. “After you left, he said to me, ‘Do you think she just got up one day and said, “I think I’ll go to law school?”’”

Harry laughs. “Er--well, I sort of did.”

“Yeah, now that I think of it,” Liam says, “you never did tell me why you chose to come here. I mean, apparently it wasn’t for your law career, if I recall correctly.”

“Yeah, no, it, uh--it wasn’t,” Harry answers, looking down.

“Would you mind telling me why, then?” Liam asks with no judgement. 

It’s that lack of judgement that prompts Harry to suggest they go get some coffee so she can tell him the whole story.

After he’s heard it, Liam leans back in his chair. “Wow.”

“I know,” Harry says, “it’s a little...nutty.”

“A bit,” Liam allows with a nod. “But it’s also pretty impressive that you were able to get here on such short notice.”

“When I really want something,” says Harry, “I fight for it. Hard.”

“Evidently,” Liam responds. “So, um--are you still interested in Nick, then?”

“No.” Harry shakes her head. “No, I don’t think he’s the one for me anymore.”

Liam nods slowly. “So, you’re here for…?”

“For me,” Harry declares. She means it, which is a nice change of pace.

***

When Harry sees Louis working in the library, she has no intention of saying anything to her. In fact, she plans on making a wide loop in order to avoid the chance of the two of them making eye contact. Despite this plan, though, her body moves of its own volition, making her walk right up to Louis’s table and say a cheery, “Hi!”

Louis looks up sharply and joins a chorus of shushes. Harry realizes her error and whispers, ‘Sorry” to everyone around them.

“What do you want?” Louis whispers.

“Just to say hi,” Harry whispers back. Then, before she can stop them, the words tumble out of her mouth, “And to say that you were right. About how I should be viewing this as more than a place to find a husband.”

Louis’s eyebrows dart up. “Happy to hear that.” For a moment, Harry thinks that’s the end of it, but then Louis sighs and says, as if she can’t help it, “I really am glad to hear you’re taking this seriously. You, uh--made a good point in class the other day. I think you’re better at this than you think are.”

Harry smiles, feeling a tingling sensation in her toes. “Thanks.” She sees the empty chairs surrounding Louis at her table and decides to go for it. “May I sit?”

Louis looks at her like she’s lost her mind, but Harry just keeps smiling, refusing to back down. Finally, Louis shrugs and says, “Sure.”

“Great.” Harry pulls out the chair across from Louis and sits down. Louis shoots her a measured look, but Harry pretends not to notice. Eventually, Louis gives Harry a small smile.

They set to work, lightning setting sparks off all across Harry’s body.

***

“So now you’re, like, friends with this girl?” Paulie asks. “I thought you hated her!”

“No, she hated me,” Harry replies. “I didn’t hate her. And we’re hardly friends; we just studied together one time. It’s not a big deal.”

“If it’s not a big deal, why are you telling me about it?”

She shrugs. “Just thought you should know.”

“But what about Nick?”

“Paulie! Nick is done! No more Nick! It’s over!” Harry exclaims. She takes a breath, then says, “The GPS says to take the next right.”

“I told you, I don’t need that thing,” Paulie says coolly as she takes the turn. “I know the way.”

Harry takes Paulie in; the aggressive gum-chewing, the death-grip on the steering wheel, the eyes darting around. “Hey,” Harry says softly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” Paulie mutters, not looking at Harry.

“Oka,” Harry replies, taking the hint. “Just--lemme know if you need anything, okay?”

Paulie nods stiffly. They drive the rest of the way in silence. Once they reach Dewey’s trailer, Paulie stops the car and takes a deep breath.

“You ready?” Harry checks. Paulie nods again. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

They get out of the car and Paulie takes another moment to stare at the trailer.

“Hey,” Harry says gently, prompting Paulie to look over at her. “I’m here.”

Paulie smiles, wiping at the tears forming in her eyes. “Thank you.”

“‘Course,” Harry says. “Now, let’s go get Rufus.”

They march to the trailer door and Harry knocks lightly on it. Paulie rolls her eyes, says, “Yeah, right,” and bangs on the door full-force.

After a beat, the door swings open and a truly repugnant man stands before them. He wears a wife-beater with stains on it and jeans practically torn to shreds. He is smoking a cigar and doesn’t look like he’s shaved in weeks. He seriously needs a haircut and he’s not even wearing socks. Harry nearly vomits on the spot.

“Paulie?” he says as he leans against the doorframe. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Harry looks over at Paulie and waits for her to say something spunky, something that’ll really stick it to him--

But Paulie says nothing. She just stares back at Dewey.

“Here to remind me of what I’m definitely not missing?” Dewey taunts with a sneer.

Still, Paulie says nothing.

“Or maybe you--”

Unable to take any more of this, Harry cuts him off. “Mister Newcomb, we are here on a legal matter.”

Dewey turns to look at Harry as if he’s only just noticing she’s there. “Who the hell are you?”

“I am Miss Higgins’s representation, Harry Styles,” Harry answers. “We are here to address a matter related to the division of assets after the dissolution of a common-law marriage.”

“Huh?” Dewey says, standing up straighter as he peers at Harry.

Harry looks over at Paulie, who is still staring at Dewey, and continues, “Under Massachusetts State Law, you and Miss Higgins had a common-law marriage, which entitles her to the benefits of property law and an equitable division of assets.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Dewey asks, looking at Harry as if he can’t quite believe she’s there.

“You retained full residence of the home you two shared,” Harry declares. “Which means that Miss Higgins is entitled to full ownership of the canine property in question and we will be enforcing that ownership immediately.”

“In English, bitch,” Dewey orders. Harry bites her tongue and looks at Paulie again, raising her eyebrows.

Finally, Paulie takes her cue and proclaims, “I’m taking the dog, dumb-ass!”

With that, she charges into the trailer. Harry waits on the threshold for a moment, awkwardly standing there with a dumbfounded Dewey. Then, Paulie returns with a bulldog in her arms. Harry contains her excitement, wanting to maintain her professionalism, and turns on her heel. She, Paulie, and Rufus return to the car. 

Once on the road, they let out their shrieks of excitement. They don’t look back once.

***

Before class on Monday, there is a crowd of students around the bullet board. Harry figures there must be some news related to housing, since those flyers always draw the most attention, so she’ll just ask her RA about it later. But then, the word “internship” catches her ear and she zooms back to the crowd.

“Did someone say internship?” she asks Zayn, whose name she’s finally learned.

“Yeah, it’s Cowell’s,” Zayn answers. “Apparently his firm is really flooded with work from a big upcoming case, so he’s already chosen the interns and they’re starting this coming semester.”

“Oh my God!” Harry exclaims, already whipping out her phone. “Did he send out an email?”

“Please.” Zayn rolls his eyes. “You know that’s not his ‘style.’ He wants to force us to crowd around this bulletin board to see the stupid paper telling us who--”

“GOT IT!” Harry and Zayn crane their necks to see who near the board has shouted the exclamation.

It’s Louis, looking shocked but tremendously pleased as she gazes at the flyer. Harry is surprised by the rush of pride she gets from the sight.

Which is then quickly blotted out by Louis turning to Nick, who is by her side, and declaring, “We got it, babe!”

“Hell yeah we did, baby!” Nick shouts, scooping Louis up in is arms and twirling her around. As he does, everyone around them stumbles back to avoid Louis’s feet as Louis shrieks in what Harry interprets as delight. Harry takes advantage of the momentary gap to zip her way to the front.

Zayn does the same and shouts, “Yes!” His name is #4 on the list, right after Niall’s. But there’s five names, and the fifth is Harry’s! Right there: Harry Styles. Unmistakable.

“ME!” she shouts, unable to contain her joy. “I got it! I can’t believe it!”

“Me neither,” Zayn agrees. Harry takes that to mean he can’t believe he got it, too, because she refuses to think ill of anyone right now.

She holds up a hand to Zayn, but Zayn just eyes it warily. “High-five!” Harry clarifies, not believing how Zayn is both so smart and so dumb.

“Oh, uh--all right then.” Zayn slaps Harry’s hand. It stings a little, but Harry’s willing to pay the price for the validation.

Then she looks around at the members of the crowd, all of whom are staring at her. She laughs a little. “Well, don’t all congratulate me at once!”

“We’re not,” one girl says bluntly.

“Um...all right,” Harry says, doing her best to maintain her composure. “What’s wrong?”

“The internship is supposed to be for four people,” Nick explains gently. “I think everyone’s just wondering, uh--what happened.”

“I guess we were just all so good,” Harry retorts, “he couldn’t say ‘no’ to any of us.”

“Yeah,” Louis pipes up. “That must have been it.”

Everyone, including Harry, looks at Louis in confusion. Louis looks steadily back at Harry, not smiling, but not frowning either. Before anyone can say anything else, Louis checks her phone and declares, “All right, almost time for class, show’s over! Get moving!”

Just like that, the crowd disperses. Harry remarks to Louis, “You sure know how to clear a room.”

Louis huffs a small laugh. “Yeah, it’s a gift.”

They stand like that for a moment, Harry, Louis, and Nick. Harry considers tossing a jab at Nick, but decides against it. Instead, she says, “Well, congrats to you both!”

“Yeah, you too!” Nick says, though it’s a bit reserved and confused. “I should, uh, get to class.”

“Yeah, good plan,” Louis says. “I’ll walk you there.” Nick nods and starts on his way, Louis falling into step with him. Harry follows after them, a step behind.

This is the class in which she sits next to Louis, since Nick has a different section. Harry isn’t going to talk to Louis; they never talk, of course. But Harry feels compelled to say something. So, when Cowell is busy ripping Niall a new one for making some flawed argument, Harry quickly passes Louis a note reading, “Thanks for the support back there.”

Louis looks at it and smiles slightly. When Cowell is tearing into another student, she passes back a note that reads, “What are co-workers for?”

Harry keeps the note.

***

To say that the elevator ride with Louis up to the top floor of Cowell’s law firm on the first day of their internship is awkward is an understatement and a half. Harry knows Louis doesn’t hate her anymore, but she also knows they’re not exactly friends. They’re in a very weird in-between space. Harry’s never been in an in-between space with anyone before. It’s uncomfortable.

“Hello,” Harry tries as the door close.

“Hi,” Louis replies with equal stiffness.

They say nothing for a few seconds, the tension mercilessly growing. In the silence, Harry gets the strangest urge to kiss Louis. Shaking the random impulse, Harry says, “You look nice.”

And Louis does look nice. Her blue suit brings out her eyes perfectly. Few can really pull off the paint suit, but Louis is definitely one of the few. She’s still not wearing makeup, but Harry’s starting to think not every woman needs it. Louis certainly doesn’t.

“Thank you,” Louis responds. She looks Harry up and down, causing goosebumps to erupt on Harry’s arms. “You do, too.”

“Thanks.” Harry smiles. She’s proud of her outfit; a black jacket and skirt with a white blouse. Of course, the top has red and black polka-dots, since it has to have a bit of character. But when Liam had advised her to dress conservatively, she had taken it to heart.

They don’t speak for the final ten seconds of the ride. Harry considers asking if Louis’s excited, but knows that’s a stupid question, so she lets that impulse pass too.

Finally, the elevator stops and the doors open. There’s a moment of hesitation before Harry gestures to the door and says, “After you.”

Louis rolls her eyes, but goes ahead. Harry follows after her and they walk into the conference room, where they are greeted by a large oak table, ten chairs, six of them already filled. Liam, Niall, Zayn, and two lawyers Harry’s never met sit on the sides of the table. Cowell sits at the head.

“Where’s Nicholas?” Cowell asks without preamble.

“Parking the car,” Louis answers, sitting down next to Zayn.

Cowell nods as Harry sits down next to Niall and across from Louis. Cowell checks his watch. “He still has a few minutes. We’ll wait.”

In the meantime, Harry pulls out her laptop and gets a Word document ready. And they all wait.

“So,” Cowell says, breaking the uncomfortable silence, “how was everyone’s break?”

There’s a general chorus of “good”s. Louis offers, “Nick and I went skiing with his family.”

Cowell smiles. “And did you have fun?”

“Yes,” Louis answers. “Lots of fun.”

Cowell replies, “Good.” Louis nods.

Harry experiences a weird pang of jealousy. She’d been so sure she was over Nick. Then again, they had been together for four years; perhaps it’d been a bit naive of her to think she’d fully gotten over him in a few months.

Nick barges into the room at that moment, wearing a rumpled black suit.

“Ears burning?” Cowell greets.

“Uh--no, sorry,” Nick says with a crooked grin, sitting down next to Louis. The chair at the end of the table opposite Cowell remains open. “What’d I miss?”

“Louis was telling us all about how much fun you two had on your ski trip,” Niall informs him.

“Oh yeah, that was a great time,” Nick confirms. “Right, love?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, smiling at him. “It was.”

Harry clears her throat, having had just about enough of this. “Shall we?” she asks Cowell.

“Yes, we shall,” Cowell answers, rising from his chair. “Thank you, Harry, for keeping us all on task.” Harry gets the usual fuzzy feeling of validation from that. “The client we’ll be defending is one Louise Windham. She is a professional fitness trainer, focusing on increasing women’s confidence through exercise. Her training usually utilizes jump-roping, and she is revered all around the Los Angeles area for the incredible results she gets her students.”

“Wait--Are you talking Lou Teasdale?” Harry cuts in, already knowing the answer.

Everyone turns to give her an inquisitive look. “Maiden name, Teasdale, goes by Lou in ordinary life,” Cowell says slowly. “Do you know her?”

“Of course I do!” Harry exclaims. “She’s a Delta Gamma! Graduated a few years before my time, but still. And she’s the best fitness guru in the whole valley. She’ll make you drop three pounds in one class! I went to her sessions religiously the months leading up to senior formal. Nick, you remember that, right?”

Looking none too happy about being put on the spot, Nick answers, “Er--yeah. Yeah, I remember. I mean, we didn’t go together but--”

“She’s incredible,” Harry asserts.

“Well, by the looks of it, she’s also incredibly guilty,” Cowell retorts. “She was found standing over her husband’s body, covered in his blood.”

“By who?” Nick inquires.

“Whom,” Louis corrects him softly. Harry hides her smiles as Nick petulantly huffs.

“Her twenty-seven year-old stepdaughter and the pool boy,” Cowell answers.

“Maybe Lou just found him like that,” Harry suggests. “Do they have any evidence other than their word?”

“No, they don't,” Cowell answers. “And let’s hope they don’t find any. We are going to be arguing that Lou did just happen to find her dead husband that way.”

“Well, if they don’t have evidence,” Zayn says, “it should be an easy case to win.”

“It would be,” Cowell replies, “if it weren’t for the thirty-four year age difference between them and the fact that he was a millionaire.”

“Well, so what?” Niall argues. “It’s not like they have the murder weapon, right?”

“They don’t,” one of the lawyers Harry doesn’t know says. “He was shot and the gun is missing.”

“But the coroner said he’d been dead for thirty minutes before the cops arrived,” Cowell adds, “giving Lou plenty of time to stash said gun.”

“There’s no way Lou could have done this,” Harry says, outraged by the fact that Cowell seems so convinced of their client’s guilt.

“And why’s that?” Cowell challenges.

 

“Because she exercises all the time,” Harry answers. When Cowell merely arches a brow, Harry continues, “Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people don’t kill their husbands! They just don’t!”

Zayn snorts, making no attempt to hide it. If Harry’s hurt by that, she doesn’t show it.

“You mean you actually believe she’s innocent?” Cowell says, brow furrowed.

“Yes, absolutely!” Harry insists. “And I’m going prove it.”

Liam speaks up, “Well then maybe we have a real case.” He smiles at Harry. Harry smiles back.

Cowell sighs. “Let’s hope we do.”

***

“I don’t understand,” Cowell says slowly through gritted teeth. “If you have an alibi, why won’t you tell us what it is?”

The whole team is sitting with Lou in a private visitors room of the prison in which she is being held. They are sitting at a round table, papers strewn across it as they go over each aspect of the case with Lou. However, they have encountered a speed-bump along the way that is causing Cowell a lot of aggravation.

“Because it’s my personal private business,” Lou replies steadily. “Look, I’m not trying to be difficult, but--”

“Then stop being difficult!” Cowell cuts her off. “Tell us the alibi!”

“I can’t,” Lou says firmly. “It would ruin my whole life.”

“So would going to jail for fifty years for murder,” Cowell snaps. With that, he stands up, buttoning his suit jacket as he says, “Let me know when you come to your senses.”

Cowell walks out, leaving behind the rest of the team to clean up and organize the papers. As they do, Harry feels Lou’s eyes on her.

“Hey,” Lou says, making Harry look up. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Harry excitedly nods. “I’m a Delta Gamma. I took your class in preparation for senior formal. A few times before that, too, but--”

“Harry Styles,” Lou says, nodding slowly. “You were great. One of the best high kicks I’ve ever seen. You representing me?”

“Uh--sort of,” Harry hedges. “I am working the case.”

Lou’s face breaks into a wide grin. “Well, thank God one of you has a brain.”

***

The interviews with the stepdaughter and the poolboy do not go well, to say the least.

The stepdaughter, Chutney, is sticking to her story that she found Lou standing over the body, covered in blood--the body Chutney believes Lou put there.

And the poolboy….well, as for the poolboy--

“She was having an affair with the poolboy!” Cowell exclaims as the team has dinner at a local steakhouse. “It’s so fucking obvious, I can’t believe we didn’t see it and ask her about it earlier!”

“She is not,” Harry vehemently disagrees. “Did you see what he was wearing? A shiny shirt that completely clashed with his red pants? A Delta Gamma would never.”

“I have to agree,” Louis cuts in. “I know we need to cover our bases, but I just can’t see them--doing it.”

“Well, the jury will sure be able to see it,” Howard, one of the other professional lawyers working the case, says. “Unless we prove otherwise.”

“And that will give a clear motivation,” Cowell piggy-backs, “for her to have committed the murder. God damn it!” He bangs his fist on the table, then slowly takes a deep breath. “Sorry. God, I just--I did not see this coming.”

Harry considers mentioning how Cowell himself had told them all that a good lawyer always looks for the weaknesses, but restrains herself. Anyone could have made this mistake; Cowell may be an amazing lawyer, but he isn’t a god.

“She didn’t do it,” Harry insists.

“Then who the hell did?” Zayn questions.

“My money’s on the angry daughter,” Harry asserts, “or the ex-wife.”

“Chutney has no motivation,” Niall reminds her. “She has a trust fund--didn’t need the insurance payoff or the inheritance.”

“Well, maybe it is the ex-wife,” Louis says. “We can’t automatically rule her out.”

“She’s covered,” Stuart, yet another lawyer working the case, says. “She was in Aspen at the time. Ten people saw her drinking cocktails at the Caribou Club.”

“Look, that may be,” Harry says, cutting into her steak with barely suppressed rage. “But all I know is that it’s not Lou.”

“Your faith in her and her innocence is heartwarming, Harry,” Cowell proclaims. “But it means nothing until we get that alibi.”

Harry looks at Cowell for a moment, hearing him, really hearing him, and knows what she has to do.

***

“I’m here to see Lou Teas--Louise Windham,” Harry says to the guard at the front desk of the jail in which Lou is being kept. “I’m here to see Louise Windham.”

“Are you a licensed attorney or a family member?” the guard tiredly questions, not looking up from her magazine.

“Family,” Harry answers without hesitation.

“Relation?”

“Sister.”

The guard sighs as she moves over to the visitor’s log, still not looking at Harry. “Name?”

“Delta. Gamma.”

The guard writes down the name without a second thought, then buzzes Harry in. The guard tells her, “She’ll be out in a few. Take a seat.”

“Thank you!” Harry says as she walks through the door into the room lined with telephone booths and windows.

She sits down at one and waits, wondering if coming here was completely moronic.

Before she can go too far down that train of thought, Lou sits down across from her and picks up the phone. Harry does the same.

“Hi!” Harry greets brightly. “How are you holding up?”

“Oh, I’ve been better,” Lou says on a sigh.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry says, shaking her head. “It must be awful in there.”

“It’s not great, that’s for sure.”

“I brought you some stuff!” she says, picking the care basket she made up off the floor. She holds the items up one-by-one as she lists them. “Pink sheets. Aromatherapy candles. A loofah. And, of course,” she says, holding up a copy of Cosmopolitan. “The Bible. I did bring some makeup, too, but they may not let me give it to you; they may think you’ll turn it into a shank or something.”

“You are a saint,” Lou praises. “I’m so glad you’re here and not Cowell.”

“He means well,” Harry assures her. “He’s an amazing lawyer. He’s going to win this case for you.”

“Well, he better,” Lou says, “for what I’m paying him.”

“Well, um,” Harry says, shifting in her seat, “there is one thing you can do to maybe make it easier for him?”

“You’re about to ask for my alibi.”

“We just really need it for the case,” she pleads. “It would guarantee a win if we could place you somewhere other than your home when the murder took place.”

“You just don’t understand.” Lou shakes her head. “I know you mean well, but I just can’t.”

“Of course I understand!” Harry exclaims. “I’m your sister! Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Lou tears up a little, swallowing hard. “It’s so shameful…”

“It could save you,” Harry states. “There’s no shame in that.”

“That’s just the thing,” Lou says, voice choked. “It would ruin me.”

At this point, Harry is more than a little frustrated. She knows this is hard, but this is Lou’s life they’re talking about. Still, she maintains her understanding and asks, “How?”

Lou takes a deep breath, regaining some of her composure, before declaring, “I have made my fortune off of giving women the bodies they want.”

“I know, you helped me go from a six to a four!”

“That’s great!” Lou says, smiling through tears. Her face becomes drawn again as she says, “But, um--There’s something they don’t know.”

“And what’s that?” Harry asks gently.

“On the day of my husband’s murder, I--I was--” She chokes on another sob before whispering, “I was getting liposuction!”

Harry gasps. “What?”

“I’m a fraud!” Lou exclaims, still whispering. “A complete and utter fraud. But look, Harry, you have to understand; you just can’t get a body like mine without a little help! I just want to set a good example for women, that’s all. But if they find out about this, I’m finished.” She swallows hard again. “I’ve already lost my husband. I can’t lose my reputation, too.”

“It’s okay, Lou,” Harry assures. “Really, it is. I won’t tell a soul.”

***

“We have an interview with the ex-wife in half an hour,” Cowell says as he goes through the schedule of the day with the team in the conference room. He picks up a piece of paper, saying, “And we--Oh, Louis, could you get me a coffee?”

Louis looks up sharply, eyes narrowed, but does as requested, rising to pour the coffee at a table near the door. Harry notices she has a dark blue skin covering her laptop now. It’s...nice. If a little out-of-character.

Cowell continues, “As I was saying. According to this communique from the prison, Missus Windham apparently had a visit from her sister. Delta Gamma.” He looks deliberately at Harry, eyebrows raised. “You know her?”

Harry sighs; she should have known she’d be caught. “Yes, I went to visit her.”

“Why?” Zayn asks.

“To get her alibi.”

“Did you get it?” Liam prompts, a smile already forming on his lips.

“Yes,” Harry answers.

“Wonderful!” Cowell exclaims. “What is it?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Cowell blinks. “Why the hell not?”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell a soul,” Harry explains. “I wouldn’t dare break the bonds of sisterhood like that.”

“Fuck sisterhood,” Cowell snaps. “This is a murder trial, not a sleepover. Give me the God damn alibi.”

Louis carefully puts the cup of coffee down next to Cowell, watching Harry.

“I can’t,” Harry insists. “I made a promise. But I can tell you that she is innocent.”

“Oh, well that’s very good to--”

“Mister Cowell?” Cowell’s receptionist says, poking her head in.

“What?” Cowell demands.

Not flinching, the receptionist informs him, “Missus Windham Vandermark is on line two for you in your office.”

Cowell sighs. He gestures to Hary, saying, “Someone deal with her while I’m gone.” With that, he leaves the room, following his receptionist.

“Have you lost your mind?” Niall asks. “Give him the alibi! He’ll kill you if you don’t.”

“I don’t care,” Harry replies. “I’m not breaking my promise.”

“We’ll lose the case without it,” Zayn reminds her.

Harry sticks out her chin. “Then we’re not very good lawyers.”

Zayn looks about ready to strangle Harry. Louis, on the other hand, quietly sits back down next to Nick and smiles.

Suddenly, Nick says softly, “Look, if you give him the alibi, you’ll probably make summer associate. Screw Louise, who cares? Think about yourself.”

Harry looks at Nick, stunned that this is the man who once had her whole heart. “I gave her my word, Nick.”

“Look, some of us actually care about this,” Zayn states. “We aren’t just doing this on a whim.”

“I do care,” argues Harry. “In fact, I probably care about this case more than any of the rest of you, because I actually care about Lou has a human being! I don’t just see her as a way to get summer associate.”

Harry then sees that Louis is looking at Nick as if seeing him for the first time. It reminds her of how she felt looking at Nick at the party all those months ago. Harry wants to reach out to her, wants to say something to help her through this, but now’s not the time or place. And anyways, Cowell walks back in at that moment.

“The ex-wife has rescheduled our interview for two o’clock today,” he announces as he walks back to the front of the room. “Which just means we have more time to prepare. So, let’s get to it. Unless, of course, someone has something they want to say…?” He looks meaningfully at Harry. Harry remains silent. Cowell sighs. “‘Thought not. Right, then. Let’s go over the timeline of their marriage again, shall we?”

***

Harry is going over the ex-wife’s deposition for the twentieth time that night when someone knocks on her door.

“It’s open!” she calls out, having kept the door unlocked with a classic rubber-band trick.

Louis opens the door and walks in, greeting softly, “Hey.”

“Hi.” Harry smiles, settling back against her bed pillows. “How are you?”

“I’m good, you?”

“Great.”

“Good.”

They stay like that for a moment, Louis standing by and still holding open the door and Harry sitting on the bed. Both of them just smiling.

Louis snaps out of it first, noticing the depo still in Harry’s hands. “Oh, are you reading through the depo, too?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, holding up the stack of papers. “I prefer to print things out to read them.”

“Same,” Louis replies, nodding as she enters the room more, letting the door close behind her. She gestures to the desk chair. “May I?”

Harry nods, holding her hand out to the chair. “Please.”

Louis takes a seat and sighs. “What’s up?” Harry asks.

“Nothing, just--” She looks at Harry with pursed lips before inquiring, “Are--are we friends?”

Harry’s a bit taken aback by the question, especially since it’s taken up so much of her thought process the past few weeks. The looks they give each other when Nick is being a particular dumbass, the way Louis’s been supporting Harry’s ideas, and now this? Well, there seems to be only one answer at this point.

“I’d say so, yeah,” Harry replies.

Louis nods, looking down at her hands. She looks like she wants to say something serious, then changes gears and says, “Have you noticed that Cowell only ever asks me to get his coffee? He’s never asked Nick. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

“Well, Cowell may be brilliant,” Harry responds, “but all men are at least a little sexist. And useless.”

“Yeah,” Louis mutters. “He sure is brilliant.”

“Do--you have some sort of problem with him?” Harry inquires, genuinely wanting to know as she shifts forward on the bed.

“Nothing, just--” Louis cuts herself off and huffs. “Do you remember that time he called me a lesbian in class? In front of everyone?”

“Well, yeah, but--you said yourself, he was just trying to prove a point,” Harry reasons, crossing her legs under her. And then, “Right?”

A thought flashes across Louis’s eyes, but it’s gone too fast for Harry to read it. Louis looks down and says, “Yeah. ‘Course.”

Harry wants to nudge that thought, wants to know why Louis is apparently still so hurt by a remark Cowell made months ago. But Louis doesn’t look like she wants to talk about it, so Harry doesn’t ask. Eventually, Louis says, “You know, men are useless. Nick can’t even do his own laundry.”

“I know!” Harry exclaims, laughing. “He has to have it sent out!”

“Yes!” Louis says, also laughing now. “And did you know, he got waitlisted the first time he tried to get into Harvard!”

“NO!” Harry gapes at Louis, who nods eagerly like she’s just told the most amazing secret ever. Which, in a way, she has.

“Mm-hm!” she confirms. “His father had to make a call!”

“Oh my God,” Harry gushes, falling back on her bed and guffawing. “Incredible.”

“Yeah,” Louis says on a sigh. She bites her lip before asking, “Hey, um--do you regret breaking up with him?”

“Well, if we’re being technical, he broke up with me,” Harry says, but there’s humor in it.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.” Harry sits up to look at Louis as she says, “And no, I don’t. I’m very much over him.”

“Hm,” is all Louis says.

Harry peers at Louis. “Hey, um--are you having second thoughts? About marrying him?”

Louis bites her lower lip again before admitting, “Maybe?”

“Okay.” Harry nods, her heart suddenly speeding up its pace. “Why?”

“A bunch of things,” Louis confesses. “One, what he said today in class, when you refused to give up the alibi. I mean, I can’t believe you didn’t, personally, but---”

“It wasn’t my alibi to tell!” Harry protests.

“I know!” Louis says. “You didn’t let me finish. I still think that was very--classy of you.” Harry feels that lightning shoot through her body again, but ignores it. “And then there’s the fact that he honestly isn’t that good of a lawyer. Like, you’re a lot better.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’m a lot better--”

“I know you are,” Louis says firmly, and fuck, there’s the lightning again. “And you didn’t even study law in college! There’s no excuse for Nick to be worse than you.”

“Maybe I’m just naturally gifted,” Harry teases.

Louis smiles, looking down. “Yeah, I have a feeling you are.” Harry’s tongue gets tied by the unexpected softness of Louis’s tone, but then Louis just clears her throat and barrels forward, “And anyways, I’m just not sure I feel the same way I used to about him. Honestly, I’m not sure I ever felt the way you’re supposed to feel when you’re engaged to someone.”

“Well, how did he make you feel when you first started dating?” Harry inquires, leaning forward and letting her feet dangle off the edge of the bed. She’s careful not to let her knee touch Louis’s.

“Oh, you know,” says Louis “Fine, I guess.”

“My, what rave reviews.”

She cracks a grin. “Yeah, I know. I just--You know, it made sense. We’d known each other as kids and our families knew each other, so when he asked me out for the first time, I was like, ‘Yeah. Yeah, that fits.’ And it was the same when he proposed. And it’s only now that I’m starting to realize…”

“It doesn’t really fit?” Harry finishes the thought.

Louis sighs. “Yeah.”

“Have you ever felt excited about being with him?” Harry questions. “Like, when he first asked you out, were you pumped to go on that date and think about the future with him?”

“Um...no, not exactly.”

“Has he ever...given you goosebumps?”

“Not...physically, no.”

“Have you ever looked at him and thought, ‘If this is the last thing I see, I’m content?’”

“God, no.”

“Well then… I don’t think you feel the way you’re supposed to feel, either.”

“Maybe it doesn’t feel that way for everyone!” Louis tries. “Maybe there are people who have felt the way I’m feeling about their soulmates.”

“How are you feeling, then?”

“Um…” Louis’s eyes dart around the room for a second, as if searching for an escape route. “A little...bored. And tired. And frustrated.”

“Well, every couple goes through their rough patches,” Harry concedes.

“Yeah,” Louis says, but her heart isn’t in it. “It’s just--I’m always bored with him. And tired. And frustrated. I always have been. I’ve been this way with all guys, as a matter of fact.”

Harry’s ears perk up at that. She isn’t entirely sure how to say this next part, but she has to ask. “Louis...what Cowell said that first day. About you. Was that...was that true?”

“No!” Louis immediately rejects the thought. “God, no! Are you kidding me? Why would you even ask that?”

“Because you basically just said you hate spending time with all men!”

“That doesn’t make a lesbian!”

“Then what does?!”

“Liking women, which I don’t,” Louis declares, “thank you very much.”

“All right, jeez, sorry,” Harry backs off. “‘Didn’t realize that would you offend you so much.”

“No one wants to be called a lesbian, Harry.”

“Well, what if you were friends with one?”

Louis looks at her sharply. Slowly, she asks, “What...exactly...do you mean by that?”

Harry’s mouth loses all moisture. “Uh--nothing,” she quickly answers. “Nothing, I just--I just mean, it’s hurtful to view ‘gay’ as an insult. That’s all.”

Louis cautiously nods. “Right. Fair point.”

Harry takes a moment to collect her thoughts before asking, “Have you ever felt the way I described? About anyone?”

“‘M not sure,” Louis says, before looking at Harry. “Maybe.”

Harry’s heart crawls into her throat. The way Louis’s looking at Harry, the way Louis’s mouth hangs open, the way Louis’s eyes dart down to Harry’s mouth--all the puzzle pieces suddenly fall into place. Louis wants to kiss her. And Harry wants to kiss her back.

“Hey,” Harry says softly, placing her hand on Louis’s knee. She doesn’t have anything more to say, but she knows she doesn’t need it, knows Louis hears her loud and clear. For a second, it looks like Louis is actually going to do it, actually going to lean forward and bridge the gap between them. Harry holds her breath.

And then Louis abruptly stands up, voice high as she says, “Uh--well, I should get back to work. Maybe if I read the depo for the thirtieth time, I’ll find something new from it!” She tries for a laugh, but it’s the most forced sound Harry has ever heard.

Harry, for her part, doesn’t say anything. She just stares up at Louis, shocked and hurt. Louis tries for a smile, but it turns out more like a grimace, waves goodbye, and exits the room.

Harry remains where she is, sitting motionlessly on the bed as if she’s been slapped.

***

The next day is the first day of the trial. Harry’s first time in a real courtroom. It’s terrifying.

All the furniture is made of a rich, dark wood. Marble busts of people Harry mostly doesn’t recognize line the walls. The room seems to have an intimidating presence all its own.

As the defense team starts taking out and organizing their papers on the table in front of them, Harry sneaks a sidelong glance at Louis. However, Harry’s unable to catch Louis’s eye, as Louis is looking only at her documents. Avoiding Harry’s gaze.

Not the time, Harry tells herself. She needs to focus on the case, like Louis is doing. Nonetheless, Harry does look over at Louise, who is sitting next to Cowell and doing her best not to look nervous. Harry gives her a reassuring smile, which Lou attempts to return.

When the judge enters the room from her chambers, the bailiff orders, “All rise!”

They all rise. Harry can tell with one look that the judge is not a woman with whom one wants to trifle. Stern-looking, it’s clear she’s seen every trick in the book and is not going to let any slide here.

“You may be seated,” she informs the room as she takes her seat. They all sit back down.

“Court is now in session for the case of The State of Massachusetts v. Louise Windham. The court will now hear opening arguments,” the judge proclaims, “starting with the prosecution.”

The DA stands up and nods, buttoning her suit jacket as she does. “Your Honor.”

From then on, it’s an absolute whirlwind. The DA’s opening arguments are admittedly solid, but Cowell’s are better. More biting. Pointing out the total lack of physical evidence. Calling this whole trial nothing more than a way to further Missus Windham’s pain during her grieving process. God, he’s amazing. If Harry could be half the lawyer he is, she’d be happy.

Chutney sticks to her story on the stand, of course. There’s nothing much Cowell can do, other than use her to again point out that the only evidence she has is her word. Still, when a dead father’s daughter says, “I saw my stepmother standing over his dead body, covered in blood,” it does tend to make an impact, no matter how one tries to prevent it. Harry, for her part, shuffles through documents to find anything Cowell requests.

The poolboy, Enrique, is also sticking to his story. Pointedly, the story that he found Lou standing over her dead husband’s body, but knows she didn’t do it because he knows she’s a good woman.

“How do you know Missus Windham is such a good woman?” the DA questions.

“I know her soul,” Enrique declares in his beautiful Spanish accent. Of course, he’s from Spain.

“How do you know her soul?” DA Joyce Riley pushes.

“We have spent many nights together discussing matters of the soul.”

“Why did you do that?”

“We’re very close.”

“How close?”

“Very.”

“What was the nature of your relationship with the defendant?” Riley prompts.

“Well,” Enrique says, looking left and right before pressing his lips to the mic to say, “we were lovers.”

A series of murmurs ripple through the crowd watching behind them. Harry holds back a sigh, looking over to see Lou glaring at Enrique. They’d told her he’d say this, told her she had to go on the stand to refute it, but she had refused. Harry’s pretty sure she’s still scared that Cowell will put on her on the spot on the stand and demand her alibi. Harry knows Cowell wouldn’t be that stupid, though. Still, she understands Lou’s trepidation. It’s just very inconvenient for the case.

“I see,” DA Joyce Riley replies as if she had no idea that Enrique would say that. Louis is sitting next to Harry, which is how Harry notices Louis’s quick eye-roll. Harry has to hide her smile at that. “For clarity’s sake, did you and Missus Windham engage in sexual intercourse?”

“Many times,” Enrique answers.

“And this,” Riley says, picking up a thong off the prosecution’s table before turning around to show it to Enrique, “is your uniform?”

“Correct.”

“For cleaning the pool?”

“Yes.”

“And did Missus Windham ever watch you do this?”

“Many times,” Enrique says with a grin. “It was a sort of a, uh--foreplay.”

“Right.” Riley nods, before turning to the judge and saying, “No further questions, Your Honor.” She returns to her seat, looking utterly self-satisfied.

“The court will now take an hour-long recess for lunch,” the judge announces. “We will reconvene at one o’clock for the defense’s cross-examination of Enrique Salvatore.” She bangs her gavel, then retreats back to her chambers.

Harry pulls out her lunchbox and water bottle. She needs a drink of water desperately, but realized halfway through the morning that she had forgotten to fill her bottle before leaving her dorm. First, though, she eats a baby carrot, watching Louis leave the room with her own water bottle. Then, she makes her move.

Sure enough, Louis is just a little ways down the hallway, filling up her water bottle at the drinking fountain. Harry takes a deep breath, then approaches her. “Hi!” she says, doing her best to sound confident. But it sounds false even to her own ears.

“Hi,” Louis replies stiffly, not looking up from her water bottle as the stream from the fountain flows perfectly into it.

“I think it’s going well,” Harry offers. She immediately regrets it when Louis just gives her a look that says she’s crazy if she really thinks that. “So, um.” Harry clears her throat, then lowers her voice to say, “Listen, about last night--”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Harry,” Louis cuts her off.

Enrique saunters over, standing behind Louis, evidently waiting for the fountain. Perfect.

Doing her best to remain vague, Harry pushes, “But I think we should talk about it.”

“I don’t care what you think,” Louis retorts, spilling a little bit of water out of her bottle before screwing the cap back on. “Look, last night was weird. It was a fluke. I was all upset because of the case but that’s done. It’s over, all right?” Harry’s heart is pierced with an indescribable arrow. “Let’s just focus on the case.”

“Right, yeah,” Harry says, nodding and doing everything she can to fight tears. “You’re right. As always.” She tries for a laugh. Louis gives a small laugh, too.

She looks like she wants to say something to comfort Harry for a moment, but apparently not, because all she ends up saying is, “I’ll see ya’ back in there.” Harry nods, then Louis’s gone.

Harry takes a breath before stepping up to the water fountain, before hearing someone clear their voice behind her. Right. Enrique.

“Sorry,” she says to him, stepping back from the fountain. “Go ahead.”

He gives her a pointed look before bending down to slurp from the fountain. He drinks for an obscenely long time. At one point, he stops and Harry thinks that’s finally the end of it. But then he just dives in again. Harry’s a very patient person, but she can only take so much, apparently when she only has one hour to eat lunch and she’s wasted so much time already trying to fill up her water bottle. Thus, she starts tapping her foot.

Upon hearing this, Enrique straightens up, looks disdainfully down at her foot, and orders, “Don’t you tap your last season shoes at me.”

He stalks off, leaving Harry to huff. “They are not last season,” she says to no one. Then, she gasps, struck with a lightning bolt of realization.

Cowell isn’t anywhere to be seen, so she waits. She needs to talk to him. Now.

“Where’s Cowell?” she asks Liam, lunch entirely forgotten.

“I think he’s out taking a call,” Liam answers, sitting at the desk with his sandwich half-eaten in front of him. “Why?”

“I need to talk to him.”

“About what?”

“The case.”

“Yeah, you know, I did gather that much on my own.”

Harry sighs. “Enrique. I think I know something about him that will convince everyone he and Lou weren’t having an affair.”

Liam’s eyes widen. “Great! What is it?”

“I--He’s gay,” Harry whispers, careful not to let anyone overhear.

“What?” Liam whispers back. “Are you crazy?”

“No!’ Harry insists. “He really is, I know it!”

“Your evidence being…?”

“He called my shoes ‘last season,’” Harry explains. “Which, admittedly, they are a little. And a straight man wouldn’t know that!”

“I don’t know, Harry,” Liam says. “It seems a bit risky to base a case on something you’ve ascertained from a man’s shoe knowledge.”

“But I know I’m right!”

“Why don’t you finish your lunch,” Liam suggests, “and if you still think you’re right when Cowell gets back, talk to him about it?”

“I will,” Harry says firmly. She returns to her seat and huffs at the fact that Liam actually doesn’t believe her. Doesn’t trust her judgement.

“Is everything okay?” Louis asks before taking another bite of her salad.

“Yeah,” Harry answers, stabbing at her sushi rolls. “Just peachy.”

Cowell returns to the court room with only five minutes left in the recess. As soon as he gets back to the table, Harry bolts up and rushes over to him. “Professor Cowell, I know how we can prove Enrique and Lou weren’t having an affair.”

“Excellent!” Cowell says, turning all his attention on her. “I’m all ears.”

“He’s gay,” Harry whispers.

Cowell blinks, then inquires, “And you know this how, exactly?”

“Out in the hall, he called my shoes ‘last season,’” Harry elaborates. “Straight men don’t know which shoes are in season! See, watch this. Nick!”

“Yeah?” Nick replies, looking up from his phone.

“What shoes am I wearing?” Harry demands.

“Uh...brown ones?” Nick answers, brow furrowed.

“See!” Harry says to Cowell. “Someone must be paying him off to say all this! Maybe the DA!”

“DA Joyce Riley is a good, honorable attorney,” Cowell says sternly. “She is a dear friend of mine. I do not appreciate you questioning her character.”

“Well then, the person who really did it must be paying him off!” Harry persists.

“Miss Styles, as much as I appreciate your enthusiasm,” Cowell says dryly, “I am not going to base my case on what you read in last month’s Vogue.”

“But I know I’m right about this!”

“Then you can take comfort in that knowledge,” he tells her. “Now get back to your seat.”

Harry huffs again, hating everything as she returns to her chair on the end of the table. “Everything still all right?” Louis asks gently.

“Not even a little,” Harry states through gritted teeth. “And why do you even care?”

“I--We’re still friends, Harry, I--”

“Save it.”

Harry doesn’t like being mean, doesn’t like being the bad guy, but she’s been pushed too far. Still, she immediately regrets it when Louis just looks down at the table, face drawn.

The judge and Lou reenter. They all rise at the bailiff’s command, then sit at the judge’s.

“Would the defense like to take the opportunity now to cross-examine Mister Salvatore?” the judge asks.

“Yes, Your Honor,” Cowell answers, standing up. “We call Mister Salvatore back to the stand.”

Enrique returns to the stand, a smug smile on his face. After he confirms that he understands he is still under oath, Cowell goes in.

“Mister Salvatore, what evidence do you have of this alleged affair between you and Missus Windham?” he inquires, looking at the jury.

“Only the love in my heart,” Enrique answers, making a few of the female jury members swoon.

Cowell scoffs. “Well, if that’s all the evidence you have, then the defense--”

“Would like to ask just a few more questions!” Liam pipes up, rising from his seat. Everyone, including Cowell, in the room looks sharply at him. Liam walks over to Cowell; Harry can hear him mutter, “Just give me five minutes.”

Cowell gives him a look telling him quite clearly, Do not fuck this up, then nods to the judge and sits back down at the defense table.

Liam takes a breath, then turns to Enrique. “Mister Salvatore, how long did your affair with Miss Windham last?”

“Six months,” Enrique answers.

“How long have you been employed there?”

“A year.”

“Did you ever take Missus Windham on a date?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“A restaurant in Concord where no one would recognize us.”

“And your boyfriend’s name is?”

“Chuck.”

“Right.”

The crowd gasps as Liam saunters back to his seat. Enrique tries to backtrack, “I--I’m sorry, I thought you said ‘best friend,’ not ‘boyfriend.’ Chuck is just a friend!”

A man in on the crowd in the fourth row on the side of the prosecution bolts up and exclaims, “You lying bastard!” Yet another gasp comes from the crowd as the man storms out.

“Chuck, wait!” Enrique calls after him. “No!”

The crowd bursts out, talking at full-volume all at once. “Order!” the judge calls, banging her gavel several times. “Order! I will have order!”

Harry looks down the table at Liam and smiles at him. Liam smiles and nods back. Louis catches the look between them and asks Harry, “Hey, uh--were you the one that caught that?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, nodding. “I was.”

Louis’s eyebrows dart up. “Wow. Nicely-done.”

Harry beams, unable to fight the familiar joy that fills her up at praise from Louis. “Thanks.”

***

“Well, everyone,” Cowell says, raising his glass as Liam finishes pouring wine into everyone else’s. They’re all gathered around in the lounge of the firm’s building, where Cowell meets with clients who are not in jail. “Congratulations on your first day in trial. You all did very well. Especially you, Harry.” Harry breathes in sharply, barely suppressing her joy at the direct shoutout as Cowell continues, “Realizing the truth of Enrique’s sexuality was crucial to decrediting his entire testimony. And it’s all thanks to you.”

“To Harry!” Louis toasts, raising her glass.

Harry starts, “Oh, that’s not--”

Everyone cuts her off with a cry of, “To Harry!”

As they clink glasses, Harry swallows past a lump in her throat, overcome with emotions. “Thanks, everyone. I’m so proud to be working on this case with all of you.”

“And we’re proud to have you,” Cowell replies, smiling at her over the rim of his glass. After taking a sip of his wine, he says, “I’m going to finish this in my office while reviewing a few things for tomorrow. Everyone, please stay and enjoy yourselves as long as you wish.” 

“I’ll come with you,” Liam says. Cowell nods, and with that, they’re both gone.

“I think I’m going to head out too,” Howard says, setting down his wine glass. “Wife’s waiting at home.”

“Yeah, same,” Stuart says regretfully, also setting down his glass on an end table by the couch. “Very nice work today, Miss Styles.”

“Yes, it was,” Howard says.

“Thank you.” Harry grins back. “That means a lot.”

Stuart and Howard both nod, say their goodnights, and depart.

“That really was great today, Harry,” Niall says.

“It was, yeah,” Zayn agrees.

“Really impressive, Harry,” Nick says, looking at Harry as if seeing her for the first time. It doesn’t affect Harry the way she once thought it would.

“Thanks, guys, but we don’t have to keep on this,” Harry says humorously. “There are other topics to discuss.”

“Like what?” Louis challenges, leaning against the desk they’re standing near.

“Like...how badly Zayn needs a haircut,” Harry teasingly suggests.

“Hey, I’ve been busy!” Zayn protests as everyone else laughs. “And anyways, you’re one to talk about hair!”

“I’m sorry, is there something wrong with my beautiful blond locks?” Harry asks, running a hand through her hair. 

“Not at all,” Louis declares. Her arm moves as if to touch Harry’s hair, but she aborts the movement. Harry can’t deny the twinge of disappointment that hits her as a result. “Hey, Nick, darling? Didn’t you have something you wanted to show the guys in your room?”

“Yeah, but that can wait until you’re ready to go,” Nick responds casually.

“Sorry, what are we talking about?” Niall inquires cautiously.

“You’ll see,” Nick says, waving him off, “you’ll see.”

“Uh...dude, there are certain parts of you that I really don’t want to be surprised by--”

“Ew, God, Niall, no!” Nick exclaims with a shudder. “Christ, what is wrong with you?”

“Just tell us what it is!” Zayn requests.

“No, show them,” Louis implores him. “You go; Harry can give me a ride back. Right, Harry?”

Nick looks suspiciously between the Louis and Harry. The ghost of a smile on his lips, he asks, “What are you up to?”

“Oh my gosh, fine,” Louis gives in. “I want to ask Harry for some advice related to the wedding, but it’s a surprise for you. Now, get out of here!”

Nick throws his head back, laughing. “Of course. Right, then.” He turns to Zayn and Niall. “Shall we, gentlemen?”

“Yeah, all right,” Niall replies. “One sec.” He downs the rest of his wine, setting his glass on the end table, next to Howard and Stuart’s. Everyone blinks at him. Grinning in response, he says, “Irish heritage.” 

Zayn sets his glass down too. Nick, Zayn, and Niall say their goodnights, Nick telling Louis he’ll call her later, and they all depart.

Harry looks over at Louis, who smiles at her. Harry nervously smiles back. Louis sighs and says, “What a day.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, laughing a little with it. “Tell me about it.”

“You were incredible,” Louis proclaims, standing up straighter, no longer leaning on the desk. “You are incredible.”

The tips of Harry’s ears heat up and her heart-rate picks up as Louis starts to walk slowly towards her. “Um, thanks.”

“‘Course,” Louis says softly, still walking. Harry slowly starts to walk back, keeping an acceptable distance between them.

“You, uh--you wanted wedding advice?” Harry questions, still walking as Louis does.

“What?” Louis replies, looking at Harry like she’s nuts.

“That’s--that’s why you wanted to talk to me,” Harry reminds her. “For wedding advice.” Her back hits the wall. Louis stands just a few inches away. Softly, Harry asks, “Right?”

Louis’s face spreads into a wide grin. “Yeah, actually. I do need some wedding advice. I was wondering,” she says, voice low as she leans in to whisper into Harry’s ear, “how do you know when to call off a wedding?”

Harry holds back a whimper, closing her eyes and resisting the urge to just lean a little closer, feel more of the warmth of Louis’s breath on her skin--

“Hey, Harr--Oh, shit.”

Louis jumps back as if she’s touched a hot stove and Harry quickly regains her composure. They both look over to see Liam standing by the door, looking down and scratching the back of his head.

Harry looks between Louis and Liam before clearing her throat, faking a smile, and greeting, ‘Hey, Liam! What’s up?”

“Er--Cowell wants to see you in his office,” Liam mutters, still looking down. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for!” Harry counters. “I’ll be right there! Goodnight, Louis!”

She scampers off to Cowell’s office, not looking back once.

***

“Knock, knock!” Harry greets, poking her head into Cowell’s office.

“Harry,” Cowell greets. “Please, come in. Have a seat.”

“Thank you,” Harry says, sitting down in the chair next to the couch. It’s a little weird to have a couch in one’s office, but Professor Cowell does handle some sensitive cases. It’s probably good to have that option for certain clients.

“Would you like a drink?” Cowell offers, walking over to the small bar tray he has.

“No thank you,” Harry politely refuses. “I’m a one-drink kind of girl. Well, at least at my professor’s law firm, I am.”

Cowell chuckles lightly, then resumes his more serious demeanor. “I was very impressed with you today. In fact, I’ve been consistently impressed with your work. Every time I doubt you, you blow my expectations away.”

“Thank you,” Harry says breathlessly. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

Cowell smiles. “Have you given any thought to where you may want to be a summer associate?”

“Oh, I--I mean, I’ve thought about it, of course,” Harry says, straightening up in her chair, feeling very put on the spot. “But I don’t know yet; I know the competition is really tough and--”

“Well, I think you’d be a good fit here,” Cowell declares, sitting down on the couch next to her, close enough to touch. “You have the instinct it takes to succeed in this business and you could grow those skills here.”

“I’d love that,” Harry says, then looks down at her hands. “But um. I don’t know, I mean. Today was really just a lucky guess.”

“No, it was an educated guess,” Cowell corrects. “An instinct that you followed, that I was wrong to ignore. Part of being a good lawyer is taking risks, you know.”

“But I thought you should always plan ahead.”

“Plan ahead, yes,” Cowell says, placing his hand on Harry’s knee. “But ignore your basic instincts? Never.”

Harry hears Cowell’s words, really hears them, as she looks down at his hand on her knee. All the puzzle pieces slide together and Harry knows she’s lost everything all at once.

“You’re hitting on me?” she says, but it’s not really a question.

“I’m following my instincts,” Cowell states. ‘You’re a beautiful girl, Harry.”

“I can’t believe you,” Harry says, getting choked up. “I thought--I really thought you were, like--I thought so much better of you.” 

“I’m a man who’s not afraid to takes risks.”

“And I’m a law student who just found out her favorite professor is nothing but a pathetic asshole,” Harry says through tears. She stands up hastily, going to the door.

“You’ll never make it in this business without me,” Cowell warns.

Harry yanks open the door, says, “I’d rather that than make it with you,” and leaves.

***  
Harry is charging down the long hall to the doors of the firm when Liam walks by, notices her state, and stops her with a gentle hand on her arm. “Hey, Harry, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine!” Harry nearly shouts, making the receptionist look up at both of them. They both give her a smile and she returns to work.

“If you’re fine, why are you crying?” Liam questions.

Harry realizes she has to tell someone about all this; she can’t just skip town with no explanation. Let Cowell write the narrative for everyone. She takes a deep breath before saying, “Cowell just came onto me in his office.”

Liam’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head. “What?”

“Apparently that’s why he bumped up the number of interns from four to five,” Harry says, tossing some hair out of her eyes. “He wanted four people who were actually qualified, plus a hot piece of ass.”

“Hey, no, you are qualified,” Liam asserts.

“Oh please, Liam,” Harry remarks. “Do you honestly think anyone will ever take me seriously?”

“Yes,” Liam says emphatically. “Because you are good at what you do. You saw what you accomplished today!”

“What you accomplished,” Harry corrects. “I didn’t actually question Enrique.”

“Because you’re not legally allowed to yet,” Liam reminds her. “But I only got that answer out of him because of what you figured out!”

Harry scoffs. “It was a lucky guess, nothing more.”

“Harry, that’s not--”

“I’m going back to California,” she declares. “If I hurry, I can still become the trophy wife I was always meant to be.”

“No, stay,” Liam implores her. “We’ll fix it. We’ll fight it.”

“Thank you for being nice to me,” Harry says, giving Liam the best smile she can muster. Then, “Tell Louis I said goodbye.”

She walks out of the building, tears still streaming down her face.

***

“So, you’re just leaving?” Paulie questions, watching as Harry reaches into her car. They’re outside the nail salon; Harry felt like she had to say goodbye. “Just like that? Because a man did something wrong?”

“Yes, I’m leaving,” Harry says icily, still searching in her car.

“But he’s the one who’s wrong!”

“It doesn’t matter!” Harry shouts, coming out of her car to face Paulie. “Don’t you get that? What really happened and who’s really in the wrong doesn’t matter because he’s just going to spin it so that I’m in the wrong if I say anything about it! At least this way, not saying anything, I get to keep my integrity.”

“Yeah, by running away,” Paulie points out. “You’re just oozing with integrity.”

“What do you want from me here, Paulie?”

“I want you to remember who the hell you are!” Paulie exclaims. “I want you to fight back. I want you not to let a man take everything from you. I want you to not give in so easily!”

“Give in easily?” Harry challenges. “Are you serious right now? I have fought harder than anyone for my right to be here! I have endured a terrible breakup, getting thrown out of class, seeing my ex engaged to another woman, being mocked relentlessly, working my ass off, and getting my heart broken again! And people still don’t think I belong here. And you know what?” Harry sighs, blinking back tears, hating how easily she cries. “They’re right. I don’t. I know exactly who I am, Paulie. It’s not--this. Not a Harvard Law student. I’m a valley girl who’s going to find a very rich husband and be very happy with him.”

Paulie shakes her head. Voice strangled, she says, “I wish you would believe in yourself the way I do.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry says, “back at ya’.” She reaches back into her car and finally finds what she’s been rummaging around for. “Here,” she says, handing a bedazzled collar to Paulie. “For Rufus. I thought he could use a little bling.”

“Oh, it’s perfect!” Paulie wails, pulling Harry in for a bone-crushing hug. Harry hugs back with all her might, eyes squeezed shut.

Which is how she doesn’t realize someone has walked up to them until she hears a throat clearing.  
She opens her eyes, looking over Paulie’s shoulder to see Louis standing a few feet away. Paulie turns around and asks Louis, “Who are you?”

“Louis Tomlinson,” Louis answers.

“Oh, so you’re the bitch who--!”

“Paulie!” Harry brightly cuts her off. “Why don’t you go put that collar away? I’ll be in soon.”

Paulie humphs. “Fine.” Before leaving, though, she turns to Louis and says, “You hurt her again, you die.”

Louis raises her eyebrows and Paulie returns to the nail salon. Louis looks at Harry for a moment, then cracks a grin and says, “Told her a lot about me, huh?”

Harry huffs out a small laugh. “A bit. Earlier, yeah. Not so much later.”

Louis nods slowly, looking at Harry. Harry asks, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same,” Louis tosses back, “when we have a case to be winning an hour from now.”

“I’m not working on that case anymore, Lou.”

“Why not?” she challenges. “Don’t you still care about it?”

“Yes, of course I do!” Harry answers. “But I just--I can’t.” She turns back to her car. “You should go. I know I am.”

“You’re gonna’ let Cowell scare you out of what you want?”

Harry freezes, then turns around to face Louis again. “How do you know about--?”

“Liam told me,” Louis says. “He didn’t want to, but when he told me you wanted him to tell me you said goodbye, I forced him to tell me why.”

“Well then,” Harry says, jutting her chin out, “you know why I have to leave.”

“No, I don’t,” Louis counters, walking towards Harry. “I know why you’re leaving. You’re running away. But you don’t have to.”

“No, I am leaving to maintain my integrity.”

“So that you can become nothing more than a faint memory and a punchline at cocktail parties around here?”

“Stop it.”

“No.” Louis stops just in front of Harry. Harry doesn’t back down. “You were meant for more than being some rich guy’s wife. How could you even think of throwing away your talent?”

“I don’t have any.”

“Why the fuck do you think that?”

“I only got the internship so Cowell could feel me up!”

“It doesn’t matter what Cowell thinks!” Louis explodes. “Who gives a shit what some sexual harasser thinks? His opinion does not matter! You are good at this. And you know it, too.”

And Harry does know it. A small part of her does. But it’s not enough. “I just--I can’t go back there and see him again. Not after what happened.”

Louis’s expression becomes a bit more understanding. “You can report him, you know.”

“How would I prove it?” Harry argues. “I don’t have any evidence, remember?”

“Maybe there have been others who would be willing to speak out,” Louis says. “You don’t know if you don’t try. Please, Harry, just. Try. One more time. If not for me, then for yourself. Come on. Stay.”

Harry looks into Louis’s eyes and she wants to stay and try, she really does. But she’s just so tired. And she knows how it’ll all end anyways, even if they do report. “I’m sorry,” she says, voice small. “There’s nothing here for me anymore.”

“I’m here for you.”

“Louis, please,” she gets out, hating how hard this is. “There’s no reason for me to stay.”

Louis frowns. “You said just now that you got your heart broken a second time while you were here,” she states. “When did that happen?”

“You heard that?”

“Yes, now when?”

“None of your business.”

“I think it is.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I love you!” Louis confesses. “All right? I’m in love with you, you idiot. And I need to know if that second heartbreak referred to me because if it did…”

“If it did?” Harry prompts.

“If it did,” Louis repeats, “then I promise I will never break your heart again. Look, I--Nick and I are over, okay? I ended things last night.” Slowly, she takes Harry’s hand. Harry lets her, the reality of what Louis’s saying hitting. “You say you have no reason to stay here. But--I love you. And I think you love me too. Could that maybe be a reason?”

Harry knows the odds are entirely stacked against her. She knows Cowell has nearly all the power. She knows love cannot change that. But right now, all she wants is to say “yes!” and throws her arms around Louis, pulling her into a searing kiss.

So, she does.

And oh, it’s everything. Louis’s lips against hers are so incredibly soft, the feel of Louis’s arms around her waist, the smell of Louis’s hair. It’s all absolutely intoxicating. Harry breaks away from the kiss for a moment, breathing in deeply, then quickly returns. Louis bites her bottom lip, making Harry give a small whimper, so that Louis smiles against her mouth. More than anything, it’s fun. Kissing Louis is fun. Harry’s never had fun kissing anyone.

They pull away slowly, but stay close. Louis gives a short laugh. Harry whispers, “Do you want to know a secret?”

“Of course,” Louis breathes back.

Harry grins as she said, “I dye and straighten my hair.”

Louis gapes at her and teases, “You absolute fraud.”

“I know,” Harry says, smiling. Then, more seriously, “I’ve never told anyone that before.”

“Well then,” Louis says, tipping their foreheads together. “I’m honored.”

They stay like that for a moment, breathing each other in, before Louis checks her watch over Harry’s shoulder. “All right, we need to get to court in an hour.”

“But I don’t want to work with--”

“I know,” Louis says. “But I was talking to Liam last night and we think we may have found a way to get rid of him.”

Harry raises her eyebrows. “I’m listening.”

***

Harry’s leg is bouncing as she sits next to Louis at the defense table. Upon entering the room, neither of them had said a word to Cowell, who is flipping through documents on the other end of the table. Louis gently places a hand on Harry’s leg to stop the bouncing. “Don’t worry,” she murmurs out of the corner of her mouth. “We’ve got this.”

Harry nods once, keeping her eyes straight ahead.

The judge enters and they go through the daily ritual of rising and falling. Lou is then escorted in by prison guards and led to the defense’s table, but she doesn’t sit down. She stands right above Cowell, looking down at him.

Cowell looks up, eyebrows raised. “Yes?”

“You’re fired,” Lou declares point-blank.

Cowell scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“Yeah, I am right,” Lou retorts. “You are fired.”

“And who exactly will represent you?” Cowell challenges, not looking up from his page of questions for the next witness.

“Harry Styles.”

“What?” Cowell looks up at Lou sharply, then looks down the aisle at Harry. “What the hell is she talking about?”

“Exactly what she said.” Harry stands. “I’m representing her now.”

“That’s impossible,” Cowell states. “You’re not licensed.”

“According to Massachusetts state law,” Louis cuts in, “she can represent Missus Windham without a license.”

“How?” Niall questions, looking between Harry and Cowell like he’s watching a tennis match.

“Counselors,” the judge calls, “approach the bench.”

Harry starts forward, but Cowell cuts her off mid-stride, blocking her path and proclaiming, “You are not going up there.”

“Yes, I am,” Harry counters plainly.

“I forbid it.”

“Who the hell are you to forbid it?” Lou challenges. “You’re fired, remember?”

“Counselors,” the judge repeats, “approach the bench.” Then, firmly, “All of you.”

Harry, Cowell, Liam, and DA Riley do as they’re told, Riley looking absolutely tickled at this turn of events. Harry decides to take initiative on this one, saying, “Harry Styles, your honor. Rule 3:03 of the Supreme Judicial Court states that a law student may appear on behalf of a defendant in criminal proceedings.”

“Your honor, the prosecution has no objection to this,” the DA says, practically jumping out of her skin with excitement. Harry wants to slap her, just a little.

“Well, the defense does have an objection,” Cowell retorts. “I’m not allowing this.”

“But you agreed last night in your office,” Harry says innocently. “When we were discussing my career. Didn’t you?”

Cowell glares at Harry, clearly biting back all sorts of words. Instead, he says to the judge, “Are you really going to allow someone dressed like this to represent someone in your court?”

The judge looks Harry up and down. Harry is wearing a pink suit with a skirt and heels. Not high heels, granted, since she’s realized they’re honestly more uncomfortable than they’re worth, but heels nonetheless. She keeps her head held high; she likes what she’s wearing, even if no one else does.

“Technically, she is not in violation of any dress rules,” the judge says, though she is looking at Harry with pretty apparent disapproval.

“This is absurd!” Professor Cowell erupts, no longer interested in keeping his voice down. 

“It’s not your decision to make, Simon,” Riley says pointedly. “Since you’re fired and all.”

Cowell turns his glare on Riley. Harry remembers how he’d claimed they were such good friends. She wonders how true that statement was.

“Exactly,” Harry agrees. “The rule still stands, whether you like it or not.”

“I’m familiar with the ruling, Miss Styles,” the judge says, glasses perched on her nose as she looks down at Harry. “But it also states that you need a licensed attorney to supervise you.”

“Well, you’re not going to find one of those here,” Cowell says firmly.

“Actually,” Liam cuts in, “she is.”

Cowell looks sharply at Liam. “Excuse me?”

To the judge, Liam says, “I’ll be supervising Miss Styles, your honor.”

“Well then,” the judge says casually, “you may proceed, Miss Styles.”

“Thank you, your honor,” Harry says with a nod. She doesn’t catch the look Liam gives Cowell as she walks back to the defense table, but she’d bet anything it’s priceless.

Cowell, for his part, packs up his suitcase with great ceremony. He tells Lou, “Enjoy prison.”

“Go to hell,” Lou replies, looking straight ahead.

Cowell gives Harry a scornful look, but she follows Lou’s lead, staring forward. Cowell leaves the courtroom, the door slamming behind him.

“Miss Styles,” the judge says, “call your first witness.”

“Thank you, your honor,” Harry says, standing up. “The defense recalls Miss Chutney Windham.”

She hears a murmur ripple through the crowd and does her best to ignore it. Still, she finds herself looking back at where Paulie is sitting on the defense’s side, just to know that there is someone there who believes she knows what she’s doing. Sure enough, Paulie is nodding along, looking like Harry is the smart person on earth. It helps a little.

Once Chutney is back on the stand, the judge checks, “You understand that you are still under oath, Miss Windham?”

“Yes,” Chutney answers.

“Very well.” The judge turns to Harry. “You may begin your questioning, Miss Styles.”

“Thank you, your honor,” Harry says, straightening her jacket and clearing her throat. She tries not to think about how ridiculous she looks to nearly everyone else. She tries not to think about how high the stakes are. She tries to remember that this isn’t about her. None of that works, of course, but she does try. Barreling forward anyways, she asks, “Miss Windham, was your father home when you got home on the day of his death?”

“Not that I saw,” Chutney answers, sounding immensely bored. “But like I said in my earlier testimony, I went straight upstairs to take a shower.”

“And when you came downstairs, what happened?”

“I saw Lou standing over my father’s body, drenched in his blood.”

“How did you know it was his blood?”

“I assumed as much,” she says cooly, “and my suspicions were later confirmed by the autopsy report.”

“Right.” Harry nods, licking her dry lips. She casts a look back at Louis, who nods reassuringly. Turning back to Chutney, Harry asks, “But did Missus Windham have a gun with her?”

“No,” Chutney says, “she’d stashed it by then.”

“Objection, your honor,” Liam says, standing up. “Speculation. The defense moves to have that stricken from the record.”

“So stricken,” the judge allows.

Harry smiles gratefully at Liam, who nods at her before sitting back down.

Returning to the witness, Harry inquires, “Did you hear a shot fired?”

“No,” Chutney answers slowly as if she’s talking to a five-year-old. “I was in the shower.”

“How long were in the shower?”

She shrugs. “About twenty minutes.”

“So at some point during those twenty minutes,” Harry says, walking away from the stand a bit, “your father was shot.”

“Must have been.”

“Your father was shot,” Harry repeats, knowing she’s stalling but not knowing what else to do, “while you were in the shower?”

“Correct…”

“But you didn’t hear the shot,” she says, pacing back and forth in front of the stand, “because you were in the shower. Yes?”

“Yeah,” Chutney answers, more heat in her voice now. “I was washing my hair.”

Harry looks at Chutney then, takes her in. And there it is. There’s the new information. “Miss Windham,” Harry says with a friendly smile, “what were you doing earlier that day?”

“Is that really relevant?” Chutney asks, looking up at the judge in confusion.

“Humor me,” Harry requests.

Chutney sighs, rolling her eyes. She lists, “I woke up, went to Starbucks, got a chai latte, went to the gym, got a perm, and came home.”

“Where you got in the shower,” Harry says, nodding.

“Miss Styles,” the judge cuts in, “I believe the witness has made it clear that she was in the shower.”

“Yes, your honor,” Harry says, getting the point. “Miss Windham, had you ever gotten a perm before?”

“Yeah,” Chutney answers, still confused.

“How many, would you say?”

“Two a year since I was twelve,” Chutney answers dully. “You do the math.”

Harry smiles. She’s got it. Nodding, she walks away from the stand, starting a casual walk around the area at the front of the room as she says, “You know, a girl in my sorority got a perm once. We all told her not to; curls really weren’t the look for her.” Harry looks back at Chutney with a smile. “She didn’t have your bone structure.” Chutney almost smiles before Harry continues, “But that same day, she entered a wet T-shirt contest and was completely soaked from head-to-toe.”

“Objection,” DA Riley says, rising from her chair. “Relevance?”

“I have a point, I swear,” Harry assures the judge.

“Then I suggest,” the judge says pointedly, “you make it.”

Harry nods before turning back to Chutney. “Her perm was completely ruined. Why did that happen, Miss Windham?”

“‘Cause she got her hair wet,” Chutney says like it’s obvious. Which, of course, it is. That’s the whole point.

“Very good,” Harry says with a nod. “I see you know the first cardinal rule of perm maintenance: you are forbidden to wet your hair for at least twenty-four, preferably forty-eight, hours after getting a perm. Otherwise, you risk deactivating the ammonium thioglycolate. Isn’t that right?”

Chutney goes white, staring at Harry in horror. “I--yes, but--”

“Of course you know that,” Harry says, now facing the jury, “seeing as you’ve gotten around thirty perms throughout your life. Certainly, you knew of this rule on the day of your father’s murder, correct?”

Chutney starts breathing quickly. She doesn’t say a word, just keeps staring at Harry like she’s the most terrifying thing Chutney’s ever seen. It’s invigorating.

“And I see your perm is still intact,” Harry continues, “meaning you couldn’t have been in the shower, much less washing your hair, that day. Which means you would have to had have heard the gunshot, yes?”

Chutney’s eyes dart from Harry to Lou and back. Still, she says nothing.

“And if you did hear the gunshot,” Harry says, “then Louise Windham wouldn’t have had time to hide the gun before you got downstairs. Which would mean that you would have had to have found Missus Windham with a gun in her hand to make your story plausible. Correct?”

“She’s younger than I am!” Chutney bursts out desperately. “Did you know that? How would you feel if your father married someone younger than you?”

“Pretty angry,” Harry replies easily. “Just like you were angry, I’m sure. Angry enough to shoot your father, then have time to hide the gun before Missus Windham got home. Isn’t that right?”

Chutney’s eyes fill with tears as she says, “I didn’t mean to shoot him. I didn’t! I thought it was her walking through the door!” Harry follows Chutney’s finger to see it pointing at Lou as the crowd gasps.

The crowd erupts into pandemonium as the judge bangs her gavel and calls for order. Chutney is escorted away, already being put under arrest. Harry looks up at the judge, who is still calling for order. She turns to smile at Louis, who is applauding and already smiling at her. They’re the only two people in the room.

***

Reporters swarm Harry and Lou once they walk onto the front steps of the building, Lou’s case having been dismissed. 

“How did you know Chutney was lying about the shower?” one reporter shouts.

“Because she’s brilliant,” Lou answers, smiling as she signs autographs for people who thrust photographs at her.

“It’s basic hair-care knowledge,” Harry answers simply. “Any Cosmo girl would have known.”

“What’s next for you?” another reporter shouts.

“Finishing law school.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” a man shouts.

Harry looks at him with disgust. “No.” With that, she walks away from the crowd, catching her breath when suddenly someone grabs her arm. She turns around to see Nick looking down at her. “Oh,” she says, wondering what the hell he wants. “Hi, Nick.”

“Hi, bunny,” he greets. Harry’s stomach sinks. “Look, I screwed up big-time.”

“Did you?”

“Yes,” Nick says as he pulls out a little box. “Bunny, you’re the girl for me. I’m so sorry it took me so long to see that. Please,” he says, opening the box and not even bothering to get down on one knee, “will you marry me?”

“Oh, Nick,” Harry says, looking at the ring she knows Nick just got back from Louis last night. “I have waited so long to hear those words from you.”

“Yeah?” Nick breathes, stepping in closer.

“Yeah,” Harry confirms before taking a step back. “But I’m going to have to decline your offer.”

Nick starts. “Are--are you serious?”

“What do you know?” Harry smirks. “I guess I am.”

She walks away from Nick, then spots Louis, who is hanging out on the other side of the steps. Bounding over, Harry taps her on the shoulder and grins. “Hi!”

“Hey,” Louis says affectionately, looking at Harry like she’s perfect. She takes a moment to take in all of Harry, eyes sweeping over her entire face, before saying, “You were amazing. You are amazing.”

Harry smiles, looking down. “Thanks. You’re pretty great, too.”

“Really?” Louis says, placing two fingers under Harry’s chin and tilting Harry’s face back up. “You think so?”

“Know so,” Harry whispers, yanking Louis into a searing kiss. She hears cameras clicking away and people exclaiming shock, but she doesn’t care. She lets herself get lost in the kiss, in the moment, in Louis. Goosebumps shoot all over Harry’s arms and she kisses Louis harder, never wanting to stop.

***

A few years later, Harry and Louis walk hand-in-hand into the boutique Harry knows all too well.

“Can I help you ladies?” a salesperson asks.

“Is Caroline still working here?” Harry inquires.

“Yes,” the salesperson replies. “I’ll go get her now.”

“Thank you.”

The salesperson disappears into the back of the store. Louis questions, “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” Harry says emphatically. “She loves me and she’s gonna love you. I know I do.”

They smile at each other before exchanging a quick kiss. Then, Caroline emerges from the back of the store, saying, “Someone call for--Harry! Darling, hello!”

“Hi, Caroline,” Harry greets, kissing her on the cheek as Caroline pulls her into the hug. “How are you?”

“Grand!” Caroline answers. “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” Harry says, taking Louis’s hand again. “Looking for something for an engagement party, actually.”

Caroline looks between Harry and Louis, taking in their hands and gaping. “But--I thought--”

“A lot’s changed since the last time I was here,” Harry declares. She looks at Louis. “And I couldn’t be happier about any of it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Please leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed! <3


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